


Flashpoints

by inqwex



Series: All Roads Lead To Rome [1]
Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-09-12 15:47:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 99,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16875684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inqwex/pseuds/inqwex
Summary: Scenes that won't get out of my head, not necessarily connected. Ratings of these chapters vary and each chapter has the rating up the top. Most of them are rated T.Written pre-airing of 2.08





	1. Afterburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

Lucas knew he needed to focus, but quite frankly, it was a boring budget meeting.

Something to do with paperclips perhaps?

Look, sure it was important that the department was as economical as possible when it came to office supplies. It meant more money for other areas; like training, and more staff, and better equipment. It was just … boring.

Besides, it was hard not to be preoccupied by the events of the night before. In the harsh light of day, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been thinking.

(He hadn’t really been thinking, except about how beautiful she was and how bright her smile was, and how expressive her face was).

Lucas would never have considered himself a particularly impulsive man. When he got divorced for the second time it was to Eva telling him that he couldn’t reduce everything to an intellectual exercise and she’d needed them to have fun together instead of just living together.

And yet, something about Victoria Hughes made him lose all sense of who he was, who she was, and what was proper.

All reports had suggested that Hughes from 19 was one of many junior firefighters who had a bad combination of hero complex and impulsivity, and their first meeting hadn’t really altered that opinion of her. He had been impressed – despite himself – at how she’d immediately thought to look at the systems issues (the department’s function as a whole) on that call, and somewhat amused at how she’d yelled at him, the person in charge.

[Station 19’s response times were better than Station 23’s. However, Herrera had had the advantage of being Captain of the station for over fifteen years; allowing him to build a solid team and clear foundations and expectations. 23 had struggled to keep a captain on for more than two or three years at a time; there’d been a couple of sub-par lieutenants over the last few years in particular and it had unfortunately gotten a reputation as a station you didn’t want. So all the best rookies went elsewhere, perpetuating 23’s reputation and getting it caught in a vicious cycle. Lucas had been working on methodically placing in good quality staff but you couldn’t create a culture of excellence overnight].

But it was at the peer group meeting that he’d stopped looking at her as an impulsive, junior firefighter with no filter but perhaps some potential as a commander once she got over her hero complex. With the same courage and lack of verbal filter that she’d demonstrated on the two occasions she’d yelled at him, she’d apologised. And not in a grovelling _I just realised I said something to the boss I shouldn't have_ way he’d experienced before. [He noted she hadn’t apologised for the first time she’d yelled at him].

She was earnest and honest and beautiful and that combination had just sparked something inside him.

He hadn’t intended to spend the whole day at the Station 19/Police training session, but he’d not actually had anything more pressing to do than look out for Sully, and he’d found himself watching her. Hughes was a surprisingly patient teacher, and gave clear explanations mixed with good humour. She and Herrera were obviously good friends, and he’d enjoyed watching her smile and joke with the Lieutenant.

And he’d had a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach every time she’d glanced over at him, which had been often.

And then she’d awkwardly … not flirted, exactly, but well, kind of flirted. He’d found himself responding in kind, and it had seemed clear there was a very strong mutual attraction. Somehow they’d gone from sort-of-lightly-flirting over cake to him getting out of the shower the next morning to find her gone from her own apartment.

He replayed it in his head. The 19 crew had decided to go on to a bar down the road for a drink for “chocolate cake day”. He’d sort of been swept up by them, by her, and had trailed along. He, Montgomery and Hughes had been talking about Montgomery’s new boyfriend’s restaurant (for the life of him, Lucas had no idea how they’d gotten to the subject). At the bar, Miller, Gibson, and Bishop had immediately started downing shots, cheered on by Herrera. It hadn’t taken long for Montgomery to disappear on his phone to aforementioned boyfriend. At which point he and Hughes had … kind of been left to their own devices.

They’d had a drink each, making surprisingly pleasant light inane chat that, on his part at least, was really just a gambit to continue admiring her.

And then she’d made a wry comment about leaving because she didn’t like to drink on school nights.

And he’d asked how she was getting home (walking; her place was between the bar and the station).

He’d had to go back to the station for his car anyway, so it seemed natural to walk her home.

She’d looked at him, almost shyly, and thanked him. And he’d said no trouble, anytime.

Then her eyes flickered very definitely to his lips, and his eyes might have flicked to her lips, and then she’d leaned up and placed a kiss just to the very side of his mouth, lingering slightly. He hadn’t been able to resist tilting his head slightly and catching her lips as she pulled away. It had just been a light brush of their lips, really.

To start with anyway.

She’d then pressed closer, mouth opening under his, and it was like … wildfire. He couldn’t stop tasting her, and her hands had slid up his chest and his hands had slid down to her waist and the next thing he knew he was being pulled inside her apartment, her nimble fingers making short work of his shirt while his hands had just as eagerly divested her of her clothes.

She’d definitely said yes. He was sure of that. She’d said it somewhat impatiently.

He’d worried when he first woke up that it would be awkward and painful, but he’d mumbled hello against her shoulder when he’d spied her waking. She’d giggled, complaining about his beard, and it had seemed natural to work his way up her neck as she tried to squirm away. Then, of course, he’d kissed her again, and then they’d made love lazily.

And it had been great. At least, he'd thought so right up until he’d stepped out of her shower to find her apartment empty.

He should probably call her. But would that be too pushy? He didn’t want to push – he couldn’t push; he was on such thin ice he was practically treading water at this point.

Then again, he wasn’t her direct boss. He had nothing to do with her – really – in a professional sense. Why shouldn’t he see her outside of work? There were no laws against it. She wasn’t up for promotion for a couple of years at least and that was too far off to be thinking of his role. Anyway, the Chief didn’t necessarily need to be involved in Lieutenant-level promotions; it was Captain level and above he had to be involved with. He could recuse himself from that; he had Battalion Chiefs for a reason.

If they even got to that point; boy wasn’t he jumping the gun! Hughes hadn’t indicated that she wanted anything more than fun and spontaneous. Lucas just was sort of hoping that fun and spontaneous might also involve seeing her again.

“Chief?” Lucas blinked, realising he’d taken nothing in for the last few minutes.

“Ah,” he frantically tried to recall what the accounts officer had been saying. “So you’re saying we should renegotiate the contract?”

“Yes, sir,” the other man looked relieved.

“Is it likely to pose a problem?” Lucas gingerly tried to clarify.

“No, sir, as I was saying, I think we have a very strong case.” Lucas nodded decisively. “Do it.”

He really couldn’t care less about the topic of stationery, and was all too glad to escape back to his office, checking his phone as he went. No messages. Still, she was at work and something might have happened. Was it creepy he’d checked their roster? He’d wait until tonight when things should have calmed down.

Only what was he going to say if he called her? He couldn’t come across as pushing … anything. Lucas was acutely aware of the power dynamic imbalance, but on the other hand, Hughes had not previously shown any signs of recognising that.

Asking her to dinner seemed too much. Too formal. He wanted not-formal, he wanted relaxed, he wanted to be Lucas and Vic, not Chief Ripley and Hughes.

Coffee? That was small and unthreatening, right? It didn’t imply anything more was on the table, but it didn’t rule it out. He drummed his fingers on the desk, and checked his watch. It was late enough. She hadn’t called yet. Maybe she didn’t know what to say either? From her point of view this was … potentially even weirder than it was for him.

He picked up the phone and dialled her number. For a long moment it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer and his heart started to sink.

“Hello,” she said somewhat breathlessly, and he could hear a door shut behind her.

“Hey,” Lucas replied inanely. There was a long pause.

“Um, so, look, I’m sorry – I just was running late, and I um didn’t want to be late.”

His heart warmed to hear her tripping over her words so adorably, even if he didn’t for a second believe that that was why she had left so abruptly. “It’s okay,” he said, forgiving in an instant all the angst he’d felt that day. “Look, I…I know this is not simple or anything but I thought we could just y’know, not let work be an issue. It’s not important if we don’t make it important, after all, and do you want to go for coffee sometime?”

“Coffee?” she sounded surprised.

“Only if you want to,” he added hastily. “It’s okay if you don’t. I just…I’d like to see you again.”

He sounded like a middle schooler with a crush, _damnit_ , as he was scratched at his beard subconsciously.

“No, no, coffee sounds good!” she exclaimed. “Um, I’m working the rest of the week. Are you free Saturday? I finish at 0900?”

“That sounds great,” Lucas said, giving up any pretence of sounding cool about the situation. “How about ten? Have you been to The Warbler, near Madison Park?”

“No, it sounds good though,” she replied.

“Okay.”

“Okay, see you then.”

“Bye,” Lucas replied. There was an awkward pause as they each waited for the other to hang up. After a long pause, Lucas ended the call.

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself. "You have to be sensible here."

Strangely, while he had a feeling it was far too late for that it was not accompanied by a sensation of dread in any way.


	2. Rock-climbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.  
> From the POV of Lucas Ripley's 7 year old niece.  
> [Just for s's and g's].  
> I should add - as someone who knows Brett Tucker (Ripley) as an Australian, his American accent just sounds wrong to me. I can't explain exactly what is wrong about it but it just is. Hence the comments below.

Maddie craned her neck up to watch Uncle Lucas.

“He’s faster than you are, Daddy,” she said, looking at the timer in her non-broken hand.

A couple of stifled laughs came from nearby, and Maddie saw a couple of pretty women giving her an amused look. One of them was belaying for a third woman who was just starting to climb, while the other one hung around chatting, waiting for her turn. They must have only just got there.

Maddie waved a little, and the frizzy haired woman not doing anything smiled and waved back.

“Yeah, well, your Uncle Lucas is taller than me,” said Daddy.

“It doesn’t matter how tall you are if you’re good,” Maddie said. “Uncle Lucas says that.”

“Being tall helps, munchkin,” Daddy said, sighing as Uncle Lucas reached the top of the wall.

Maddie pressed stop. Uncle Lucas had finished two whole minutes faster than Daddy had, and she told him this as he landed on the ground with a gentle thump.

“Oh do I get a high five then?” Uncle Lucas smiled at her.

Maddie pretended to think about it, and then raised her hand and gave him the hardest high five she could.

“Whoa,” Uncle Lucas shook out his hand. “Good high five!”

The women next to them had started whispering, and Maddie saw the one belaying nudge the frizzy haired woman pointedly as they both looked at Uncle Lucas.

Uncle Lucas turned to hand the rope to Daddy and froze for a minute.

“Hey,” he sounded surprised.

“Hi,” the frizzy haired woman gave a little wave.

“Hi Chief,” her friend said, sounding more proper.

“Hughes, Herrera,” Uncle Lucas nodded to each of them. “Small world.”

“You know each other?” Daddy asked.

“Yeah, uh, we work together. This is Victoria Hughes, Andrea Herrera, and – yep, Maya Bishop on the wall. This is my brother-in-law Gary, and my niece, Maddie,” Uncle Lucas patted her shoulder.

“Are they firefighters too, Uncle Lucas!?” Maddie was super excited. She’d never actually met a lady firefighter before.

“Yes, they are,” he replied, as Daddy told the ladies that she wanted to be a firefighter too.

“Wow,” Maddie said, looking at them with more respect.

“Hi Maddie, nice to meet you, I’m Vic,” said the frizzy haired lady, holding her hand out.

Maddie shook it, feeling very important. “Nice to meet you too,” she said politely. “How long have you been a firefighter for?”

“Only a couple of years,” Vic replied.

“Uncle Lucas has been a firefighter for _forever_ ,” Maddie told her. “That’s why he’s the fire chief. I’m going to be the fire chief just like him one day. Joey said girls couldn’t be firemen, but Uncle Lucas says that they’re not firemen, they’re firefighters, and girls can be firefighters and fire chief even, right Uncle Lucas?”

“Of course, honey,” Uncle Lucas confirmed. “You can do anything you want, _if_ -”

“ _If_ I do my chores and my homework and listen,” Maddie finished his sentence, rolling her eyes at the lady firefighters. “Do you really have to clean a lot? Uncle Lucas says you do.”

“All the time,” Andy replied, nodding from where she was adjusting the belaying rope.

“But you can make it fun,” Vic said. “You can see who does it the fastest and the best!”

“Ohhhh,” Maddie said. That didn’t sound so bad.

“Mads, don’t bombard Uncle Lucas’ coworkers with questions,” Daddy said, patting her on her head as he walked over to the wall. “Mate, send her over to Kylie if she starts being a pest.”

“Nah, she’s fine,” the lady firefighters said together. Maddie smiled gratefully at them.

“You’re good to climb, mate,” Uncle Lucas told Daddy. The lady firefighters gave him a weird look, one Maddie was used to seeing at school.

Sometimes her accent sounded a bit more like Daddy’s at school. It was a bit weird, because Maddie didn’t mean to sound Australian, but it was hard to control it sometimes. The other kids sometimes teased her about it.

“Uncle Lucas is half-Australian,” Maddie explained. They looked more confused.

“We moved out here when I was a teenager,” Uncle Lucas added. “Gaz is an Aussie too, though, and when we’re all together our accents seem to drift a little.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Vic said. “Your accent is a little weird.”

"High schoolers don't like it if you sound different," Uncle Lucas shrugged. "So I watched a lot of movies and TV and tried to copy the accent I heard."

At that point, the lady who had been climbing the wall came down, and looked surprised to see Uncle Lucas.

“Chief,” she greeted him formally, swapping places with Andy.

“Bishop,” Uncle Lucas said.

“Why do you call them by their last names, Uncle Lucas?” Maddie asked.

“It’s what is on our uniforms,” Uncle Lucas said. “Just our surnames, and the rank if you have one.”

“So yours says Chief Ripley?” Uncle Lucas nodded.

“Will you call me by my last name when I’m a firefighter?” Maddie asked.

“Nah, it’ll sound too much like I’m talking to myself, Ripley-Harris. I’ll keep calling you princess,” Uncle Lucas said.

“You want to be a firefighter too?” the new lady asked, as Andy started to climb.

“Yep!” Maddie replied. “Just like Uncle Lucas. How long have _you_ been a firefighter?”

“About five years now,” Maya replied.

“Will you sign my cast?” Maddie decided to ask. Uncle Lucas had already signed it, but it would be cool to have lady firefighters signing it too!

“Of course!” Vic smiled at her.

“I will, and I’m sure Andy will too,” Maya smiled at her.

“Here,” Maddie reached into her pocket for the red pen she’d brought for Uncle Lucas to sign her cast, handing it to Vic. “Uncle Lucas signed it here! And he drew a picture of a fire hat!”

“Oh, is that what it is?” Vic sounded amused, and she smiled up at her Uncle Lucas.

Maddie twisted up to look at Uncle Lucas.

“I never claimed to be a good drawer,” Uncle Lucas said, going pink.

“You can draw too, if you like,” Maddie said generously to Vic.

“Oh, let’s see how well you do,” Uncle Lucas teased. Vic sat on the ground and took the red pen.

“Hmm, okay,” she said, as Maddie offered her cast. “How did you break your arm, anyway?”

“I fell out of a tree,” Maddie said, trying to sound cool. “I got super high up and then I lost hold coming down. I didn’t cry.”

“Wow you are super tough!” Vic sounded impressed. “I broke my arm when I was little and I cried heaps.”

“How did you break your arm?” Maddie asked.

“Oh, uh, I fell,” Vic said. “Down some stairs. I was really little, four or five I think.”

“Well, I might have cried when I was five,” Maddie said generously. “But I’m seven and one half now.”

“Oh, you’re a big girl then,” Vic said, nodding in understanding.

“Uncle Lucas has broken loads of bones, Mummy said,” Maddie twisted around to look up at him, being careful to keep her arm still. “Right?”

“Not _loads_ of bones,” Uncle Lucas said. “Just…my collarbone, my right arm, and both my legs.”

“You need to break your left arm and then you’ll have broken every bone in your body!” Maddie said.

“I don’t want to break my left arm, I need it!” Uncle Lucas exclaimed.

“It is a pain, I wish I’d broken my right arm,” Maddie said glumly, looking at Vic who was drawing with a very concentrated look on her face.

“Oh, are you left handed too?” Vic asked, looking up at both her and Uncle Lucas.

“Yep, Uncle Lucas, Gran, and I have to stick together,” Maddie said proudly. “We’re the only lefties in the _whole_ family.”

“All done,” Vic exclaimed, handing the pen back to Maddie. Maddie took it, and rolled her arm so she could see what the firefighter had done.

Uncle Lucas had drawn a fire helmet and written his name next to it. Vic had added a stick figure (with a dress) holding a hose back to a fire hydrant just below it to make it look like the figure was wearing the helmet, and signed her name next to the stick figure.

“It’s you when you’re a firefighter,” Vic explained, although she didn’t really need to.

“It’s great, thank you!” Maddie reached forward and hugged Vic around the neck.

“You’re welcome,” Vic said kindly, patting her back gently.

Maddie drew back, glancing up to see Daddy coming back down at the same time as Andy came back down. Uncle Lucas wasn’t paying much attention to Daddy, he was too busy smiling at Vic.

Maddie wondered if Uncle Lucas _liked_ Vic, and she opened her mouth to ask but Daddy landed and interrupted.

“You weren’t even timing me!” he said, mock-angrily.

Maddie laughed. “Look what Vic drew on my cast,” she said proudly, showing it off.

“Well, she’s a much better artist than you, Lucas,” Daddy said, swapping with her Uncle again.

“Vic it’s your turn,” Andy called, and Vic got up and took the offered rope.

“I reckon Vic might be faster than you, Uncle Lucas, as well as a better drawer,” Maddie teased her Uncle.

Uncle Lucas laughed, going a bit red again.

“Only one way to find out,” her daddy said. Maddie looked over to see both Andy and Maya looking very amused.

“Up for a race, Chief?” Vic asked, hooking into her belay line.

“If you think you can handle it,” Uncle Lucas replied with a grin. “Ignore the blue and green holds, first to the ground wins?”

“That’s fair,” Maddie heard Maya mutter. “Not too easy, but neutralises the height advantage.”

“You’re on, and you’re going down,” Vic said.

“In your dreams, Hughes,” Uncle Lucas replied, and the two of them went over to the wall.

“Maddie, you start us off,” Uncle Lucas said.

“And make sure nobody cheats,” Vic added, throwing a look at her Uncle Lucas who mock-frowned at her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maddie nodded seriously. “Everyone ready, on your marks, get set, climb!”

Both Uncle Lucas and Vic immediately launched off the ground. Uncle Lucas literally just jumped about two and a half feet off the ground, catching hold of a yellow hand hold before pulling himself up with that one hand.

“Showboat,” Daddy called at Uncle Lucas, looking amused.

Vic looked over and up, looking annoyed.

“Did you seriously just jump up the wall?!” she called across as she pulled herself up, at least two feet below him.

“It’s not cheating, Hughes,” Uncle Lucas called back, “it’s called experience.”

Maddie couldn’t hear what Vic said next, but Uncle Lucas let out a loud laugh.

“Less talking, more climbing, come on Hughes!” Maya clapped from down below. “There’s a good orange hold above your right hand, go get it!”

“Oi, no coaching, that’s not fair!” Uncle Lucas complained down from the wall, as Vic took the suggested hand-hold and pulled herself nearly level.

“That wasn’t specified in the rules, sir,” Andy called up to him. “Red there for your left foot, Vic!”

“Oi, where’s the help from my side?” Uncle Lucas yelled.

“You got this, mate,” Daddy said, laughing.

With the lady firefighters calling help and encouragement for their friend, Vic pretty much caught up with Uncle Lucas.

“What’s going on?” Maddie quickly glanced behind her to see Mummy, Gran, and Joey come up from where her brother had been climbing in the children’s section.

“These lovely ladies work with Lucas,” Daddy explained. “They’re racing up the wall – Maddie’s idea, although it didn’t take much convincing.”

“They’re lady firefighters, Mummy,” Maddie said, turning her attention back to the race. Both climbers were now nearly halfway up the wall, and Maddie couldn’t help but be awestruck at how fast and smoothly they moved. They were pretty much neck and neck, now.  “That’s Vic climbing there. She drew on my cast.”

“GO UNCLE LUCAS!” Joey yelled.

“My money’s on her,” Daddy said. “Lucas pulled off the standing jump trick he likes and she’s still caught him.”

“No way, Uncle Lucas won’t lose,” Joey said fiercely. “COME ON, UNCLE LUCAS, JUST CLIMB FASTER ALREADY!”

Everyone burst out laughing. The calls of assistance stopped next to them as Andy and Maya joined in the laughter. Halfway up the wall, both the climbers paused and exchanged words that weren’t audible down below.

“NO STOPPING COME ON LET’S GO!” Joey shouted, ignoring the laughter.

Both the climbers laughed, and started again but at a slightly slower pace.

The adults behind them were introducing themselves, but Maddie kept her attention firmly on the race. Uncle Lucas had fallen just a little bit behind, but Vic ended up backtracking slightly as she came to a section she couldn’t cross without using a forbidden blue or green hold.

“NEARLY THERE HUGHES, COME ON, GET HIM,” Maya hollered.

Joey shot a glare across, cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed: “GO UNCLE LUCAS!”

The two climbers neared the top, and Vic pulled ahead again, reaching the top about ten seconds before Uncle Lucas did. She let go of the wall and sat in her harness smugly as he reached the top. The two rappelled down, Uncle Lucas going faster than Maddie had ever seen him do.

“I win,” he announced smugly as he hit the ground. He was red in the face and sweaty, and looked out of breath.

“I was first up the wall!” Vic protested, also sweaty and out of breath. She leaned forward, hands on her thighs.

“The terms were no blue or green holds, and first back to the ground wins,” Uncle Lucas said, hands on his hips, panting.

“Actually, that is what he said,” Andy said, nodding along.

Mummy groaned. “Lucas, really?”

“Hey, she agreed to the terms,” Uncle Lucas said, holding his hands up.

Vic let out a breathless laugh. “You’re happy to win on a technicality, then?”

“I’m happy to win any way I can,” Uncle Lucas grinned at her.

“I’m claiming the moral victory, here,” Vic said, still bent forward.

“Well, congratulations, moral victor, from the actual victor,” Uncle Lucas held out his hand. Vic eyed it for a moment before straightening upright and shaking it. They smiled at each other.

“See, I told you Uncle Lucas would win,” Joey said. Maddie rolled her eyes at her big brother’s back.

“That’s right, and thank you my man for your support, which was lacking from certain other people,” Uncle Lucas let go of Vic’s hand and turned to Joey, ruffling his hair, pretend-glaring at the adults behind Maddie.

“With your rules-lawyering you had it in the bag the whole time,” Mummy said.

“Winning by playing by the rules is still winning,” Daddy took Uncle Lucas’ side.

“Well, we can argue about this in the car, and let these poor young women rock-climb in peace,” Gran interrupted.

“No, they were going to sign my cast too!” Maddie exclaimed, grabbing her red pen again and heading up to the firefighters, who’d been sniggering at her uncle. “Please?”

“Of course,” Andy took the pen and inspected the cast, pointing to the firefighter drawing. “Is this you, Vic?”

“Uncle Lucas did the fire helmet,” Maddie announced.

“Oh, is that what that is?” Andy asked, archly.

“No respect,” Uncle Lucas threw his hands up in the air. “I get no respect.”

“Yeah, yeah, Goldilocks, nobody cares,” Mummy said mischeviously.

Uncle Lucas closed his eyes and winced. Three women firefighters looked up from Maddie’s cast very slowly.

“ _Gold-i-locks_?” Vic said very slowly.

“If this makes it around the station, Hughes,” Uncle Lucas waved a finger at her. She smirked back. “As for you, _sis_ , c’mere and give me a hug.”

“Ew, no, no, you’re all sweaty and stinky,” Mum squealed, trying to push Uncle Lucas away as he hooked his arm around her neck. “Lucas!”

“There you go,” Maddie looked back to see Maya clipping the lid on the pen and she took it in her good hand, rotating her cast so she could see it.

Andy and Maya had both added their names next to the firefighter, writing, "firefighters rule".

“Thank you!” Maddie beamed at them, and darted forward to hug their legs.

“No problem,” Maya said, patting her a little awkwardly on the back.

“Ask your Uncle Lucas if you can come for a ride in Station 19’s engine some time,” Andy said. “You’d be welcome any time.”

“Uncle Lucas?” Maddie said, turning back to where her Uncle and her mum were still playfully pushing each other around.

“That’s up to your Mummy, honey,” he replied, looking at Mum.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Mum said firmly. “Say goodbye, now.”

“Bye,” Maddie waved.

“See you at work,” Uncle Lucas said. “And seriously, I mean that, if that nickname gets around…”

“Our lips are sealed, sir,” Andy said in amusement.

“Bye,” Vic waved a little and Uncle Lucas smiled at her.

“PIGGY BACK RIDE,” Joey yelled, jumping onto Uncle Lucas’ back. He grunted, but immediately caught Joey’s legs.

“Got everything?” Gran asked.

“Yep, let’s bounce,” Mummy said. “Nice to meet you, ladies.”

They chorused a bye, and Maddie waved at them again as she walked backwards outside.

“Uncle Lucas?” Maddie asked as they walked to the car. He hummed. “Does Vic have a boyfriend?”

“Why?” asked Uncle Lucas.

“If she doesn’t, you should be her boyfriend,” Maddie said, decisively.

Uncle Lucas choked. “Uh…”

“She’s really nice,” Maddie continued. “And she’s pretty, right?”

‘Yeah, Lucas, do you think she’s pretty?” Mum’s tone was funny as she and Gran looked over at him.

“I mean, yeah, she is,” Uncle Lucas mumbled. “But…it’s a bit more complicated than that, princess.”

“How?” Maddie asked. “She seemed to like you.”

“He’s her boss, honey, and people don’t normally want to date their boss,” Mum said slowly, still watching Uncle Lucas as he bundled Joey into the car.

“Yeah, what your Mum said,” Uncle Lucas said quietly.

“Well, that doesn’t seem like a good enough reason,” Maddie said. “I like her!”

“I’ll…er…keep that in mind,” Uncle Lucas said, rubbing his beard.


	3. Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.  
> Post fall season finale

At least he was here, Robert thought. He hadn’t been sure, although it had seemed like a safe enough bet. He could’ve called…but this conversation was going to be difficult enough in person, let alone over the phone.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Ripley said, without looking up from his computer screen. He lifted a cup of coffee to take a sip and made a face; clearly it had grown cold. He looked up as Robert edged into the room, and his face brightened with surprise. “Sullivan! Come in, take a seat. Got the all clear then?”

“Yeah, I’m all good. Herrera has a minor concussion, our patient is out of theatre and they think they’ve been able to save the leg,” Robert reported.

“Good,” Ripley nodded. “What can I do for you?”

Robert took a deep breath. “Well, I hope you still like the same burgers. Steak, bread, and some cheese?” He put the paper bag on the desk between them.

Ripley’s brow furrowed and he stared at the paper bag for a moment.

“You can’t go wrong with steak, bread, and cheese, even if it is boring and cliched,” he said quietly, without the levity that this particular argument had had back in the day. “Thanks, Sully.”

Robert reached into the bag and handed him a burger, taking his own (which had spice and _flavouring_ , being not just a bland cheeseburger). He put the fries between them as well, resting them on the paper bag so as to not make Rip’s paperwork greasy.

“This calls for a drink,” Ripley said, reaching into the bottom drawer and pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“Now _that_ is cliched,” Robert said, surprised to find the banter not forced.

“You don’t have to have any,” Ripley raised his eyebrows.

“Man, pour me a drink, I need one to get through what I need to say,” Robert waved his hand. Ripley nodded, and poured two generous portions. “Cheers.”

They each took a sip.

“You’ve still got damned good taste in alcohol,” Robert said appreciatively, swirling his glass. Ripley grinned at him, and started to unwrap his burger.

“You were right,” Robert said, unwrapping his own burger. “About Station 19. I’m a good fit for the job, the job’s a good fit for me. Herrera’s made a good team, but while Herrera junior has excellent instincts, she needs to learn to be more objective. Gibson needs to settle the hell down, and Bishop’s been overlooked. Montgomery and Miller need to be pushed forward more. Hughes and Warren are very good given how junior they are but both need more discipline.”

“That’s the same appraisal I made,” Ripley observed. “You sound like you’re enjoying it.”

Robert took a bite of his own burger and nodded. “You were right. I needed to get out of the academy. I’m…enjoying this.”

He said that carefully. He couldn’t go so far as to say he was happy, exactly, but he enjoyed his job at 19. Ripley smiled warmly at him.

“Anyway. I have been working on being more accessible to the team, like we talked about. Herrera senior suggested I talk to the linchpin. I spoke to Herrera junior –”

“Wait, who identified Herrera junior as the linchpin, you or Pruitt?” Ripley interrupted, leaning forward.

“You don’t agree?”

“I’d’ve gone with Montgomery.”

“Huh,” Robert paused and thought about it. “I’ll consider that. Anyway, Herrera was saying it would help if I … shared with the team. Opened up. About my people.”

The tentatively light atmosphere cracked around them and he could see Ripley’s face and shoulders tighten. He put his burger down, and wiped his fingers.

“I said that my person had died,” Robert hated that his voice still cracked. “Herrera then pushed the point, said I had to have had more than that in fifteen years.”

“A Herrera pushing the point,” Ripley murmured into the pause as Robert struggled to string the next sentence.

“I owe you an apology, this is an apology,” he blurted out.

“You don’t have to apologise –” Ripley leaned back, looking away.

“No, we’ve never talked about it and I think we should,” Robert said firmly. “I … I said some horrible things to you. I was so angry at you for so long and while we talk we don’t _talk_ like we used to. Herrera got me thinking. I do have my parents, and my sister, and they love me unconditionally but that’s kind of their job. You…you’ve been there for me anyway. Despite me not returning your emails, or your calls, or just freezing you out you still call on her anniversary every year and this year you turned up because it was the first time I was going to be in an active fire station on the day of …”

He paused for breath.

“I guess what I’m saying is, you’ve still been my guy. Even when I didn’t want you to be. And I … I know we won’t be the same because we’re older and we’ve changed but I’d like us to be friends again.”

“If I could do anything, Sully, I’d change the outcome of that call,” Ripley said softly, tears in his eyes. “If that was the one thing…”

“You made the right call,” Robert said, tears spilling over. He paused to scrub them away. “You were right to take me off it, you were right to give the amiodarone – allergy to iodine doesn't matter if the heart is stopped, you need to try to restart it no matter what it takes. And I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Water under the bridge,” Ripley shook his head, wiping his eyes unashamedly.

They looked at each other for an awkward moment.

“Okay, just, let’s hug and then talk about sports,” Robert said, standing up. Rip laughed and stood, leaning over his desk to accept the embrace.

They patted each other on the back, and then pulled back, clearing their throats.

“So, the Seahawks,” Robert said, taking a bite of his burger.

Rip laughed. “Okay, we’re going to talk about that excuse for sport.”

“Man, you’re not still knocking football!”

“Mate, where I come from, footballers don’t wear pads and helmets everywhere!”

“Yeah, they just become brain dead zombies after being concussed every game!"


	4. A Winter's Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.  
> Presume this is a late December/January kind of ball...

“Damn, you ladies look hot,” Miller said appreciatively, looking them up and down. Andy gave a twirl of her dark green knee off shoulder length dress.

“You boys look pretty good yourselves,” Maya retorted, preening a little. She’d opted for a little black dress that on anyone else would’ve looked trashy for how much skin was showing, but she managed to pull it off. “Even Gibson.”

“Oh har har har,” Gibson replied sardonically.

“Where’s Montgomery?” Vic asked, looking around. “He’s taken longer than us to get ready and he doesn’t really have hair to do!”

“I just can’t get this tie right,” Travis complained, coming around the corner, fiddling with a bow tie. “I didn’t think a bow tie would be so hard to get looking right!”

“Why didn’t you get a clip on?” Andy asked as Vic moved towards Montgomery, deftly untangling the mess he’d made of it.

“Grant said he’d help, but that was before I realised we were going to be heading straight from here,” Travis explained, trying to watch Vic. “How do you know how to tie a bow tie anyway, Vic?”

“Used to work in a department store,” she explained, giving it a final tweak. “There, very dapper.”

“Thanks,” Travis replied with a sigh of a relief. “Hey, we are one good looking group!”

“We should play a game,” Maya said with a grin.

“I don’t like it when she gets that tone, do you?” Andy murmured to Vic, who shook her head.

“No, no, it’ll be fun. Whose number would they go for?” Maya announced.

Everyone groaned.

“Oh come on!”

“What, you gonna do a straw poll – hi, we’re from Station 19, and for a game we wanna know whose number you’d like?” Vic asked.

“No, I meant for us to discuss whose number you reckon they’d ask for,” Maya said.

“There’s no external validity! We’d just be guessing,” Andy pointed out.

“Plus like ninety percent of guys would be happy to get any of your numbers,” Miller interjected.

“Of straight men, perhaps,” Montgomery murmured. “And don’t be gross, Miller.”

“I’m not being gross! Just saying, they look good. As do we!”

As Montgomery and Miller continued bickering, Andy and Vic shared an eyeroll.

“Okay,” loud footsteps echoed on the stairs, and Sullivan entered. He looked uncomfortable in his dress uniform; the only member of the team not in civilian clothes. “You all ready?”

They almost instinctively turned, straightening somewhat into a line. Sullivan gave a slight grin.

“I’m not inspecting you lot, come on,” he said. “Someone called a cab?”

“Ubers are around the corner,” Miller reported, lifting up his phone. They all trooped downstairs,  and bundled into the waiting cars for the twenty minute drive across the city.

“Car pool with me and Grant?” Travis asked Vic quietly in the back of the cab. They lived two blocks from each other, so often tried to make sure they left together.

“Unless Vic gets herself some company,” Maya twisted around in the front seat, waggling her eyebrows. “Ever since you stopped seeing Man Blanket 23 you’ve had a dry spell.”

Vic coughed uncomfortably. “We’ll see,” she said as neutrally as possible, willing herself to not blush as much as she could. She suspected she’d end up carpooling with Montgomery and Grant; it didn’t seem likely that she and Ripley would be able to leave together from a ball full of fellow firefighters and the entire Seattle Police Department. It would be noticed.

 

* * *

 

 

Vic tried to not look too obviously for Lucas as they stepped inside the large ballroom. It was already reasonably full of firefighters and police officers, and judging from the noise level, the wine had well and truly been opened. Sullivan immediately headed to the bar, while the rest of Station 19 congregated relatively near the entrance to wait for Grant.

She finally spotted him about ten metres away talking to a bunch of men in suits, and, as her crewmates got busy chatting, took the opportunity to admire him from a distance.

He was wearing his dress uniform, which weren’t cut to be terribly flattering, but somehow he made it work. He had obviously not bothered to re-comb his hair, and as a result it had curled up into the disheveled look she favoured on him.

The thing she hadn’t expected him to do was shave, and he had, and oh god his _jawline_. And his cheekbones. He’d gone from looking kind of like Thor to looking like Captain America and that was _very_ hot.

As if he sensed her gaze, Ripley looked up. Vic waved, awkwardly, and watched as he excused himself from the group he was talking to.

 “Who are you waving at?” Maya asked, curiously, trying to follow her gaze. Vic flushed a little, dropping her hand quickly.

“Chief Ripley,” Andy replied for her. “They’re _waving buddies_.”

“Waving buddies, hey?” Maya smirked.

“It’s a traditional form of greeting,” Vic replied weakly, wanting to sink into the floor. “What am I supposed to do – ignore him?”

“Station 19, hello,” Lucas said as he came up behind Miller, who jumped slightly, but stepped aside to make room for him in their circle. Ripley looked around the group, and Vic was suddenly grateful that he’d decided to stand only on the other side of Miller. It allowed her to check him out more subtly than if they’d been directly across from each other.

Lucas’ eyes reached her, and Vic felt her face warm as his gaze lingered, slowly looking her up and down. She couldn’t help but feel slightly smug about her choice of dress. It was simple; an orange halter-neck dress that came to her knees and clung the right way to her figure.

He hadn’t even seen the back yet, or rather, the lack of one.

“You all look…great,” he said, sounding slightly strangled as he tore his eyes away from Vic. “Good shift today?”

“Pretty boring,” Maya complained.

“At least we didn’t have a last minute rush that made us miss this,” Miller commented. “Although I think Sullivan might appreciate a call out.”

“Him and me both,” Ripley muttered under his breath before frowning. “Where is Sullivan anyway?”

“I’m here, as ordered,” Sullivan grumbled as he walked up behind Ripley, pushing in the circle. “But there’s no way I’m doing this without beer – hey you shaved after all!”

Lucas blushed. “Yeah, I’ve sort of shot myself in the foot by doing that.” Looking at the confused expressions on the surrounding firefighters, he elaborated, “I don’t know if any of you have met the Mayor’s wife, Lucinda? She’s … _opinionated_. Last year she spent the entire evening complaining about the trend towards men with beards and how she thinks they’re, well, the Devil’s work for lack of a proper term.”

“So you shaved to try and avoid the Mayor’s wife’s lecture,” Sullivan actually laughed. “Don’t tell me she’s changed her mind and now thinks it’s fashionable?”

“Worse,” Lucas said glumly, looking a little sheepish. “Uh…”

“Spit it out, man, I need to know what I’m getting into as your date for tonight,” Sullivan said.

“How is this a date?!” Lucas rolled his eyes as Vic and her crewmates sniggered.

“You bought me a ticket, told me I had to come, and what to wear!”

“I didn’t tell you what to wear! You asked me what to wear and I said I was wearing dress blues but you could do whatever,” Lucas said.

“That does sound kind of like a date,” Vic couldn’t help but tease. She’d heard Lucas’ side of the phone call a few weeks earlier and had had to leave the room so that Sullivan couldn’t hear her giggling. Lucas made a face at her.

“Thanks for the lack of support there,” he said sardonically, belatedly tacking on a, “Hughes” at the end.

“How is it not a date?” Sullivan asked with a wide grin.

“Well I can guarantee I won’t be trying to have sex with you,” Lucas said matter-of-factly.

Miller choked on his drink, and Vic pounded him on the back while Andy did the same for Maya.

“Thank god for that,” Sullivan looked a little sheepish now. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, how has the situation deteriorated?”

“Now she’s hinting that she has a divorced daughter,” Lucas said, looking uncomfortable. Sullivan let out a bark of laughter. “Oh shut up.”

“Let me guess, my job is interference,” Sullivan sighed, draining his beer.

“Yes, you’re going to be as boring as possible to her,” Lucas said, pausing before continuing with a wry grin, “shouldn’t be too hard for you. While you do _that_ , I’ll talk to the powers that control our funding and be as charming as possible there.”

“Back in the day, me being your wingman was a lot more fun,” Sullivan groaned.

“Chief Ripley,” a voice from outside their circle interrupted. A balding tall man in a suit was standing nearby. Lucas closed his eyes for a brief moment, before plastering on an amiable smile and turning around.

“Councilman Jones, hello,” Lucas greeted him, shaking his hand firmly. “This is Captain Sullivan, of Station 19, and his team. They’ve got the best response times in Seattle, averaging 3.5 minutes on the east side.”

“A fine record, Captain,” the councillor shook Sullivan’s hand and gave a perfunctory nod around to the team. “Chief, I was wondering if I could borrow you to discuss –”

“Of course.” Vic couldn’t help but be impressed at how smooth he was, talking to this guy. She could see how he would be good at working the room; but then he always had that kind of relatable air to him.

“Sullivan, I’d appreciate your thoughts,” Lucas continued before looking around at her crew again, lingering a moment on her with a quick smile. “Enjoy your night.”

“Behave,” Sullivan said darkly, as if they were unruly children.

To be fair, Vic thought it wasn’t an entirely inaccurate characterisation.

She watched the three men walk away.

“Okay, who was that and what did he do with Sullivan?” Travis asked.

“And Ripley, for that matter,” Miller added.

“They’re old friends,” Herrera said. Everyone looked at her and she looked a little uncomfortable. “He mentioned it while we were stuck in the aid car. Said at least he knew you were in good hands with Ripley around.”

Vic wondered how much Andy knew – she obviously knew more than she had just let on. Lucas had told her the bare facts of their friendship; that they had been very close friends until a disagreement on a call had created a rupture. Until recently, when Sullivan had come and apologised. He’d refused to be drawn on the detail, however, saying it was a personal matter for Sullivan. Vic had immediately backed down; uninterested in gossip.

“Anyway, that was a clear win for Vic,” Miller sounded amused.

“What? What?” Vic asked, confused.

“I’ve never felt quite so invisible in my life,” Maya said melodramatically. “Ripley barely looked at me and Andy.”

“Pretty sure he was more interested in Sullivan’s number,” Vic said as coolly as she could, relieved when the whole group burst into laughter and moved on. Except for Jack, who just gave her a knowing look.

“Well aren’t you the best looking group of people,” Grant’s familiar voice came from behind Vic, and Travis’ face lit up. They embraced briefly, Grant pulling away to say, “oh good, you worked out the tie!”

“No, Vic did,” Travis admitted, slinging his arm around Grant’s waist.

“Thanks,” Grant said. “It honestly didn’t occur to us to check whether he was working that day beforehand.”

“No problem, _god_ the two of you look cute,” Vic said. They did; wearing tartan bow ties of inverse colours.

“I know,” Grant said with a broad grin. “So, you all ready for a good night?”

“Hell yeah,” Miller said.

“Particularly if these waiters keep bringing around fresh glasses, thank you,” Maya said, dumping her emptied glass onto a nearby tray and collecting a new one.

“Steady on, we’re not even at entrees yet,” Andy chided with an eye roll.

“Don’t peak too early,” Vic added.

 

* * *

 

 

“How long is this guy going to speak for?” Vic groaned quietly to Travis.

“Has the second coming happened yet?” Travis agreed with a low laugh.

“Look, the Mayor’s speech was fifteen minutes, and this guy’s coming up on twenty! I don’t even know what he’s talking about,” Miller added, somewhat more loudly and less discretely, garnering some looks from a nearby table.

“Shut up,” Maya hissed.

It was a couple of more minutes before the Police Chief’s speech wrapped up. The round of applause was loud; but Vic suspected that was more out of relief than anything else.

“Lastly, I’d like us all to welcome Fire Chief Ripley to say a few words,” the MC, some local radio jockey said resignedly into the microphone. Half-hearted applause followed as Lucas stepped to the microphone.

“Evening all,” he said genially. “I know; it’s the end of year party, and we’re all keen to celebrate so I won’t keep you long. It’s the holiday season, and we’ve just had Thanksgiving. This year, we at the Seattle Fire Department can be grateful for a good year. We have responded to just under 97,000 calls for assistance, with Station 19 receiving the most EMS calls in the country. This year our turnout times have again improved for both fire and EMS calls despite receiving an increase of 1% from 2017 in the volume of calls. This achievement is due to the hard work of every single firefighter in this room; and, I suspect, most if not all of our colleagues in the police department who come out with us to the scene. It’s also due to the ongoing support from the Mayor and the Seattle Council, so thank you all.”

He paused, and the room applauded dutifully.

“It’s also coming up on New Year’s, so it’s time to make some resolutions. Every year, my first resolution is the same; to not lose a single firefighter’s life. We have a dangerous job, and that’s not always going to be possible to achieve, but that is my aim every year. This year, I’m glad to say we haven’t lost anybody, despite some close calls. I hope that next year I’ll be able to say the same thing.”

He paused for a moment, and the room, for the first time in half an hour was still and contemplative. Vic reached over instinctively and squeezed Travis’ hand, leaning against his shoulder for a moment. She saw that Grant had taken his other hand, and the two of them exchanged weak smiles.

“In the meantime, thank you all for a good 2018. I hope you all have a good night tonight, and that 2019 is even better.”

The round of applause was genuine this time as Lucas smiled and exited the stage.

“Thank you, and you heard the Chief, ladies and gents,” the local DJ said. “Time to party!”

Vic had never really paid attention to what the officers and politicians did at parties like this before. This year, in between dancing with her crew and going to the bar for more drinks she’d found herself looking for Lucas. He’d spent all of dinner, and the first hour afterwards rotating through groups of smartly dressed men and women, shaking hands and smiling. Sullivan had stuck with him through most of it, briefly ducking back to check in with them at one point.

“How’s the date going, sir?” Bishop at that point had drunk enough to not care about teasing him.

Sullivan had made a face at her. “I’m never doing this again. So many handshakes and so much damn politicking.”

“Is the Mayor’s wife as bad as she sounded?” Travis had asked curiously. Sullivan had groaned.

“She’s worse. She has an opinion on _everything_ and doesn’t let up. I’m here for some peace and quiet, Rip can deal with her for a few minutes.”

 

* * *

 

 

As the party had started to really get going, she noticed most of the politicians start to vanish. The top brass for both the police and the fire departments slowly seemed to relax, some of them leaving, some of them abandoning heavy dress uniform jackets on chairs and joining their juniors on the dance floor.

From her spot on the dance floor she could see Lucas and Sullivan head to the bar where they seemed to content to stand and drink without speaking. She kept an eye out, and was eventually rewarded with Sullivan ducking out, presumably to the toilet.

“Just need another drink,” she shouted to her crew. They’d more or less stayed in a group, although Miller had found a pretty policewoman to grind on, and Tanner had not-so-subtly joined them. She waited long enough for Travis to nod he’d heard her, and left the dance floor, heading straight to Lucas.

He gave that soft smile as he saw her approach, now in the dimmer light clearly allowing himself to look her over again and she felt warm and tingly under his gaze. He'd ditched his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up the shirtsleeves on his white uniform shirt and looked delightfully dishevelled.

“You are so beautiful,” he said quietly, speaking directly into her ear to be heard over the music, as she stepped up next to him. His breath smelled of alcohol, and she realised he was a little drunk.

“I can say the same for you,” in her heels, all it took was a slight upward tilt of her head to be able to speak into his ear in turn. He blushed a little, looking down at the bar. “You look younger clean-shaven. But I think I prefer the beard.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You don’t look like yourself,” she said honestly, and was awarded with a bright smile.

“Drink?” the bartender shouted across at them and they startled a little. Vic had left her clutch under Travis’ jacket at their table, but Lucas gestured for her to order.

“Margarita, please,” Vic asked.

“I’ll take another Old Fashioned, thanks,” Lucas said, sliding over his card. As the bartender turned to make their drinks, he stepped back a little to a less intimate distance. “Have you enjoyed tonight?”

Vic shrugged, unsure how to articulate her thoughts. He waited patiently.

“I’ve spent the entire night jealous of Montgomery and his boyfriend,” she admitted slowly. “I kind of … I wish that was you and me.”

His face softened and he gave her one of his soft smiles. “I’ve wished it was you I was introducing around tonight, not Sully.”

Their drinks were slid to them, and Vic took a long sip of her cocktail.

“You dislike me enough to sit me next to Mrs Mayor,” she said jokingly, trapped by the intensity in his gaze.

“No, Victoria, I like you enough to want to show you off,” there was something wistful in his voice, and Vic’s heart clenched.

“Your speech was great,” she said softly, fingers reaching out to rest on his wrist.

“Not too depressing?” Lucas said lightly. Vic laughed, withdrawing her hand.

“No, it was perfect, just perfect,” she said. “I don’t know if I can say I was really proud of you but…”

“No, I don’t mind,” he said hastily. They smiled at each other.

“Hughes,” Sullivan rejoined them, nodding at her as he signalled the bartender. “Water, please. Having a good time?”

“In need of refreshment, sir,” she said, holding up her half-drunk cocktail and feeling inexplicably like a schoolgirl caught behind a building. “Yourself?”

“Now that the politicians are gone things are looking up,” Sullivan replied, taking a long sip of his water.

“Thanks, Sully, I really appreciate it,” Lucas said firmly.  Sullivan waved a hand.

“After a while it got kind of fun seeing how rude I could be to Mrs Mayor before she noticed,” he said.

“That’s pathetic,” Vic hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but on seeing the two men look at her – one in surprise and the other in amusement – she decided to stand her ground. She drained her drink and looked Sullivan in the eye. “It’s a party. You both need to have some fun now you’ve done all the boring stuff. You’re coming to dance with us.”

“Dance?” Sullivan sounded alarmed. “I don’t really –”

“Yes, with your team,” Vic insisted, looking him in the eye as the music changed to another upbeat 80s hit. “One dance with us, come on.”

She threw caution to the wind and grabbed their hands in hers. Lucas immediately squeezed her hand back, but Sullivan tried to pull away automatically.

“Aren’t we too old for this?” Sullivan growled, but without any real bite.

Lucas shrugged with an odd sort of smile. “Embrace and enjoy, right?”

Vic didn’t quite understand the look they exchanged, but Sullivan’s hand relaxed in her grip as he nodded.

“Good,” she said, apropos of nothing, and proceeded to tow the two tall men behind her to the rest of her team. Reaching them, she could see Maya briefly raise her eyebrows in confusion. “These two need to have some fun.”

There was a brief pause, the team exchanging glances before nodding decisively.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Gibson yelled over the music, face red and flushed from dancing.

“Yes, Station 19!” Miller cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered. "Captain's on the floo-oor!"

Sullivan let out a surprised laugh, and Vic dropped his hand as he started awkwardly dancing. Lucas squeezed her hand once more before letting go. She was content to dance next to him in the circle that her station formed, and if their hands brushed more than just occasionally she figured everyone was drunk enough to not notice.

Now that Sullivan had been dragged out, he proved himself to be a surprisingly good dancer.

They danced like this for a few songs, before the tempo of the music changed to a slower tune and Miller was pulled from the circle by his policewoman from earlier. The circle started to collapse as people paired off, and Vic felt Lucas grab her hand and pull her slowly backwards from the group, disappearing into the middle of the crowded dance floor towards a side filled with people she vaguely recognised as police officers.

“If anyone asks,” he leaned into her ear. “We’re both very very drunk.”

“It’s probably not too far from true,” she replied as his hand settled on her waist and hers crept around his neck. “What do you reckon the odds are of us being able to get in a cab together?”

“Depends on whether I can pour Sully into one first,” he replied. “I reckon after this dance I’ll take him outside and try that?”

“I’ll try to avoid picking up Montgomery and Grant – they were wanting to carpool,” Vic replied with a nod.

She was glad the music wasn’t too slow, it meant it was easier to keep a respectable distance as they danced.

As it turned out, they had a couple of dances like that, buried in the middle of the dance floor before Lucas saw Sullivan extricate himself from the dancefloor.

“Meet you outside,” he said, pressing his lips fleetingly to her temple before slipping out after his friend.

Vic looked for her team, relieved to see Grant and Travis making out several metres away. She waited a few moments, then started to push her own way through the dance floor. She retrieved her clutch from under Travis’ jacket and headed outside.

 _Couldn’t find you, feet killing me, headed home myself,_ she typed into her phone, sending it to both Travis and Grant, adding as an afterthought, _have a great night!_

She idly joined the end of the queue for cabs (mostly filled with very drunk couples making out), relieved to see there was no-one she recognised.

Her phone beeped.

 _Round the right side_ , Lucas’ message left, and she left the queue, heading that way around the building to find a cab parked two doors down from the hotel the ball had been in, Lucas leaning against it.

“Hey, honey, thought I’d get us out of the queue now that you found your purse,” he said loudly as she approached. She obviously looked confused, because as he opened the door and rested his hand on her back, he whispered briefly, “makes it less conspicuous to him.”

She nodded, and got in the car, Lucas following. Their hands tangled together between them on the seat as he gave his address. As the car set off she glanced at him with a smile.

“Well that’s over,” she said. “My feet are killing me.”

Lucas grinned fondly at her, before leaning in and capturing her lips with his in a very firm and heated kiss. She returned it eagerly, hand slipping into his hair, then stroking along his smooth cheek.

She’d have felt embarrassed that the cabbie had to give a loud, pointed cough as they pulled up outside Lucas’ if it weren’t for the fact that she’d spent basically the whole evening being good and keeping her hands off him. Lucas paid hurriedly, and the two of them walked quickly to his door.

As soon as the door was shut, she found herself being pushed up against it as he kissed her deeply and fiercely. His hands gripped her hips as she’d imagined they would with the smooth material of her dress.

“Mrs Mayor is wrong, definitely prefer you with the beard,” she said breathlessly as his lips migrated down her neck. He chuckled against her neck, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.

“I just prefer you,” he said earnestly. There wasn't a lot she could say to that, so instead she pulled him in for a deep kiss


	5. Spontaneity, by Lucas Ripley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out Lucas, the calmly organised one, does do spontaneous after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 95% of this chapter is G-rated, but there is a section towards the end which is M-rated. Please keep that in mind.   
> I would also like to warn you that this is a long story about nothing at all...

It’s early when she hears noise in the kitchen. Vic blinks awake blearily, grey-dawn light seeping into the bedroom around the dark curtains.

It’s dark enough that she stumbles on her way out of his room, tripping into the brightly-lit kitchen. The fluorescent lights make her eyes water slightly, and she scrubs away the sleep.

“What are you doing?” she asks, bemused, as she watches him start to pull things out of the pantry and pack them in a cooler.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he says, looking up. Lucas has a wide smile on his face, and looks far too excited for – she checks her watch – seven in the morning. On a weekend. “Let’s go camping!”

Her confusion must show on her face, and his excitement palpably dims.

“I mean, only if you want to. When I woke up this morning, it felt like a good weekend for camping, so…”

“Where to?” she asks, intrigued.

They haven’t done this before; spent a weekend together. It’s been mainly just casual sex, and casual meals (either before or after the casual sex). And a movie last week. But either she’s had to work the next day, or he has, or one of them has had plans.

And it’s fine because it’s not serious; it’s just…

Well they’ve gone out of their way to not really characterise it.

But this weekend she’d sort of not had anything planned, and had kind of thought they could perhaps do something.

[She hadn’t worked out what].

“Dunno,” she refocuses on what he’s saying. “I figured if you didn’t want to come, I’d just head out to one of the deep trails around Mt Baker. Otherwise, depends, have you gone camping?”

“Like, summer camp camping once as a kid,” Vic shrugs.

“Hm, then probably one of the more local camps,” he hums thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t want to throw you in the deep end. Well?”

Lucas looks at her expectantly.

Oh.

“You mean, like, now?” she asks.

“Well, hiking’s best early; beat the traffic, get the tent set up before nightfall and have dinner at dusk. But we need supplies,” he says.

Well, she didn’t exactly have other plans. She says as much. He beams.

That’s how, a bare hour or so later, she finds herself yawning as she pushes a shopping cart around his local supermarket. He skips ahead, picking out a slightly alarmingly large selection of food. He starts out healthy, with a massive packet of trail mix, a pound of apples, and muesli bars before degenerating into marshmallows, and gummy bears, and a block of chocolate.

He pauses in front of the alcohol section.

“I usually take beer or scotch,” he says. “But you don’t like that? How do you feel about cider?”

“Sure,” she says. Her bemusement has transitioned to amusement at this point. She’s never seen him like this; almost child-like in his excitement. He plunks a six pack of apple cider in their trolley.

They stop off at a camping supplies store on the way to hers. He gets her to wait inside his SUV as he ducks inside, returning about five minutes later with something under his arm that he tosses into the rapidly filling trunk.

[At this point, she’s worked out that he has done this kind of spontaneous camping trip before. She had gotten out of his shower to find he’d packed the car already with a tent, a portable stove, some food, and a small hiking pack].

She’s just onto the third or fourth page of the Agatha Christie novel she’d found stashed in his glovebox when he slides back into the driver’s seat.

“She’s probably my favourite author,” he offers, glancing over, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Vic had obviously rummaged through his car.

“Really? I love her, but I think Sherlock Holmes edges out Poirot or Miss Marple,” she replies, looking up from the book.

“You’re a Sherlock Holmes fan?” Lucas is clearly surprised. Vic tries not to take offence. “It’s just… I would’ve thought that wouldn’t be … I don’t know, cool enough for you?”

“ _Cool enough_?” she raises one eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re young, and hip, or whatever the kids say these days,” he replies, a little embarrassed.

“There was this neighbour that used to babysit when Mom was at work,” she explains, turning back to the book. “She used to read us old books when it was bedtime.”

“What does your Mom do?”

“She was a midwife,” seeing his gentle questioning look, she explains, “died of cancer a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry. My dad died when I was fourteen. Massive heart attack. He was young, and healthy, and then the next day…” he trailed off expressively.

“It would’ve been better if that had happened for Mom,” she blurts out to her own surprise.

[She never talks about Mom. But something about his gentle, un-pushy listening and willingness to open up himself makes her want to share. With him].

“Yeah, at least I know Dad didn’t suffer,” he says. “We actually moved out here from Melbourne because his dad got sick with cancer and my parents wanted to help look after him. As it turns out, granddad outlived him.”

“They moved halfway across the world?” Vic asks softly. “Wow.”

“Family’s important.”

“I looked after Mom when she got sick. It was awful. I wouldn’t have stayed on the opposite side of the world but…”

“Yeah. Your dad not around?” his words are compassionate but casual, and Vic just knows that if she dodges the question he’d leave it.

“He and Mom split when we were younger. He was in the Marines, died in Afghanistan,” she admits.

He pulls up outside her apartment, reaches over and takes her hand.

“Must be hard. I can’t imagine losing both parents. You got siblings?”

“My brother, he’s in Iraq, in the marines. Semper fi,” she says with a weak attempt at enthusiasm. “That’s why station 19…”

“Family.”

She looks over to him for the first time during this conversation. There’s no pity in his face, just understanding and warmth. She squeezes his hand, and leans across to bestow a warm kiss before abruptly jumping out of the car.

He tells her she just needs to bring some clothes, that he has all the equipment, so she just tosses enough clothes for the night and next morning into a small bag.

They’re quiet on the highway, radio bubbling between them, but it’s a comfortable silence. Vic continues to read the book, while Lucas intermittently whistles along to the music.

The carpark is mostly empty as they pull in; only a handful of other people seem to have decided this is a good weekend for camping.

Vic can sort of see why. It’s not cold, exactly, but there is a chill in the air. She suspects by nightfall it will be freezing.

[Still, she has a secret weapon. His name is Lucas; sleeping with him is like sleeping next to an oven].

They hop out of the car, and she can just hear him take a deep breath of air.

As she comes around to the trunk, she can see him smiling.

“I just love the air,” he says in response to her smirk. “Honestly, smell it!”

She feels ridiculous, but indulgently takes in a deep, melodramatic sniff.

Actually, it is really nice. The air _tastes_ clean.

“And this is just the carpark,” he points out. “Come on, let’s see about a site.”

She’s content to hang back as he talks with the manager of the campsite, idly looking at a map of the trails nearby as Lucas pays for a site – and, after she coughs pointedly, the fifty cents for the map.

“There are free ones,” he grumbles on the way back to the car.

“This one is prettier,” she says. She doesn’t exactly scrapbook, but figures it might be nice to have a souvenir.

They park next to their site, and Lucas opens up the trunk to pull out a small backpack.

“Which trail, m’lady?” he asks, slinging it over his shoulders.

She points to a trail, angling the map so that he can see. It’s a long rambling walk by the river edge which essentially then cuts back through a section of forest to their site.

“What should I carry?” she asks belatedly.

“I’ve got four bottles of water, four apples, trail mix and some muesli bars,” Lucas assures her.

“That seems excessive,” she frowns.

“We’re going exploring,” he says with a shrug. “Better to have too much.”

“I’ll carry it later,” she assures him, somewhat uncomfortable with him doing all the carrying of goods. He shrugs, and they head off.

“Do you do this often?” she asks.

“Camping? Not as much as I’d like. But you gotta have the right weekend for it, be in the right mood.”

“So this is a spontaneous thing for you then?”

“Mostly. I mean, during school holidays I often take a long weekend and go with my sisters and their families, and obviously that’s planned. But I quite like just waking up and deciding to come camping. Once you have all the equipment and know what you’re doing it’s mostly just about getting food for the trip.”

They chat about his family for a bit. It’s inexplicably attractive how close he is with his family. It’s clear he adores his siblings (three sisters, and a brother who lives in California who he doesn’t see as often) and their families. Having met Maddie and Joey, Vic figures he is the favourite uncle, the youngest and coolest uncle.

Vic’s envious. She and her brother were close; but she hardly sees him given his deployment.

And they’re different, now. Changed by staying at home with Mom for her, and by going to war for him. It feels some days that the bond between them has stretched thin.

She tells Lucas this and he hums.

“My brother, Chris, I hardly see him,” he says contemplatively. “He’s in California. We were never particularly close – he’s the eldest and I’m the youngest. But whenever we do see each other, or talk, it’s easy conversation. There’s nothing quite the same as a shared background.”

“Yeah,” Vic says. “We still talk easily…it’s just not the same.”

He reaches across with his hand, tangling their fingers together and giving her hand a quick squeeze before letting go again.

She likes how he knows when to be quiet, to just accept what she’s telling him.

It’s a beautiful, scenic walk. They are silent for the next mile or so, content to march along. They set a brisk enough pace to work up a sweat but not uncomfortably so.

She eventually asks him what made him take up camping. He says with five kids and a sick father to support, it was what his parents could afford for holidays. Not that they were poor, exactly, just that there wasn’t excess money available.

She gets it, having grown up poor in Chicago, and then in New York. “At least until 9/11,” she suddenly falters.

She feels Lucas freeze up next to her.

“Were you in New York?” he asks.

She nods. “Not in the city, obviously. We lived out in the suburbs. The day after it happened, Mom packed us all up and we drove across the country to Seattle.”

“Still scary,” he says, clearing his throat. “We were actually in lower Manhattan. My…My first wife and I. It was a honeymoon.”

“Some honeymoon,” she says. She wonders if she should be bothered by the fact that he’s referring to a first wife. But somehow, she gets the feeling he’s a serial monogamist more than anything else.

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Probably ended that marriage then and there. I, uh, I was a rookie firefighter, just out. I went to help, and kind of … well, I can understand from her perspective that I just left her. But at the time I was just … I just wanted to help. Anyway, we got separated for the rest of the day and she was terrified the entire time of what was happening. And then when we came back home and I started working she was never able to separate the two events.”

“Fight or flight response I guess,” Vic says softly. “Most people are smart and run from something like that.”

He slants a sideways glance at her. “You calling me an idiot, Hughes?” his tone is light and teasing.

She waggles her eyebrows. “If the shoe fits, Ripley.” He laughs at that, and swings the backpack around to the front, opening it and handing her a bottle of water.

“So, that’s marriage number one down,” she keeps her tone light, but knows she’s being nosy. (It _is_ kind of her thing though).

“And behind marriage number two is infidelity,” he replies, tone laced with dark humour. “Me with my career, and her with the real estate agent that sold us the house.” There’s a pause. “I’d sort of given her the ring and figured that was a tick in the box of family, and now it was time for my career. She disagreed. We talk now again but rarely. Not like with Laura, my first wife. We were high school sweethearts and we’re friends still.”

“That must be nice,” it sounds inane and she winces. He shrugs.

“Well, it is. Makes me feel like less of a complete failure at relationships. How about you?”

“No I _am_ a complete failure at relationships,” Vic mutters. “I just…I’m not great at dating. It takes too much effort…and every time I’ve tried it I’ve ended up thinking that I’d rather be doing something else.”

“Sounds like you haven’t met the right people,” he comments, speeding his walking pace up a little.

 _Or I just have a deep seated fear of intimacy and commitment issues,_ she thinks to herself.

For the first time today, the silence that settles is a little awkward, and she thinks back over what she just said.

“Not – I mean, not right now,” she scrambles to add. “I mean, actually, there’s nothing else I want to do at the moment. Not that I really expected to go camping, but I mean, hiking’s fun.”

He lets out a laugh, and stops, turning to her.

“I’m glad,” he says, and leans forward and kisses her warmly. “Look, for a person that has a terrible track record and a person who has no track record I think we’re doing pretty well so far.”

He looks a little vulnerable, uncertain.

“I’d left my weekend free,” she says suddenly. “I had no plans, cos I was kind of hoping we could make plans.” He slowly starts to smile. “I don’t quite know what we are but I think this could be good. Is good.”

He leans forward again, taking her face in his hands and kisses her sweetly. She wraps her arms around his waist, leaning forward into the kiss.

She knows she’s smiling stupidly at him as he pulls back after a long moment, but it’s okay, because he’s smiling back at her somewhat dopily.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

They continue, pausing a few miles in to eat an apple each. Their hands brush as they share the packet of trail mix, and they make idle conversation about the news.

It’s just after two pm when they get back to his car. They make sandwiches and eat them on the picnic table nearby, looking at the trail map again.

“We’ll want to start setting up camp soon,” he says, checking his watch. “But we could go for a quick walk here?”

She nods, cramming the rest of her sandwich in her mouth and getting up. He scrambles to follow, but maintains enough dignity to at least finish off the sandwich in two bites.

They talk about firefighting. He says that he’d originally thought he might end up being a ranger or something, what with being in Boy Scouts and loving that kind of outdoors life. He tells her about the time he and his troupe went camping in Olympia, and there was a wildfire.

He’d liked the way in which the firefighters had fought it, had liked the idea of being the person who ran towards the fire. So he’d enrolled in the academy as soon as he could.

“I just wanted to be a firefighter, initially,” he says. “But the more I looked at what we were doing, the more I thought we could be doing it better, and safer. Improve things, have actual protocols. You ever wonder why airline pilots have such long checklists? Safety. A lot of people become firefighters for the romantic notion of being a hero. I don’t want us to be heroes, I want us to be as safe as possible. A good friend out of the academy died in his first week of being a firefighter.” He takes a deep breath.

“Anyway. That’s why I wanted to keep being promoted, to get to this job where I can make a difference. I can push for funding, look at what we’re doing and how we’re doing it. We’re saving more properties than we used to, and we don’t lose as many people as we used to. Since I took the job, I’ve only lost one firefighter, and I plan on keeping it that way.”

He’s not lecturing, just passionate.

“Michael?” she checks. He nods abruptly.

“He was a good man. I know you’d have liked him,” he says. “He was a rookie when I was captain.”

“I know I’d have liked him as well,” she says. “Travis’ my best friend.”

 “I don’t know him as well as I did Michael,” he says. There’s something creeping unspoken at the edge of his voice, and Vic’s not quite sure what it is. She takes a guess.

“I haven’t told him,” she says slowly. “Although…”

Should she tell him Gibson knows?

“Although?” he prompts.

It’s impossible not to notice how he is so careful about letting her finish what she is saying. Or trying to say. It’s sweet.

“You should probably know that Gibson knows,” she says in a rush, bracing herself for his reaction.

“Gibson?” his surprise is clear as he stops short. “Gibson?!”

He can’t even frame the question.

“It was an accident,” she says quickly. “We were partnered together the next day and I was asking for his advice on what to hypothetically say in…the situation…” she falters, embarrassed.

“Where you snuck out of your own apartment?” he’s amused and waves her to continue.

“Yeah, and then you called before I could call and he handed me my phone and saw the caller ID.”

He winces.

“I didn’t think to change your name in the phone,” she says sheepishly.

“How’d he take it?” Lucas sounds nervous. “HR haven’t come and spoken to me.”

“No, he was good, said he’d keep it quiet,” she assures him. She opens her mouth to almost tell him about how that was probably because of him and Andy but shuts it again.

“Okay,” he says.

“You’re okay with this?”

“Well, it’s already happened,” he says pragmatically, hitching up the backpack as they start walking again. “And I mean…I know this is kind of … I would never tell you to not say anything you don’t want to – not that I think that would work anyway – but that’s not … I don’t want this to be a sordid little affair or anything.” He sounds uncomfortable at the thought.

“I get it,” she says with feeling. “Look the sneaking around’s a bit awkward but right now I think it’s the best thing to do. We can re-evaluate it later.”

Because the more this day goes on the more she’s thinking that actually, she would like to do this again with him. She’s only just realised that she’d left her phone in his car, and that she hadn’t checked it at all since they left Seattle at 8.30 and normally she’d have it on her and be checking it regularly. And she doesn’t particularly feel a desire to check it now.

“Good,” it is relief that accompanies the word, but Vic doesn’t feel put out by that. They need to be cautious, this is … complicated. “Just wanted to make sure you knew you can say anything. Might just be nice if you let me know who knows if more people know though. So I know.”

It’s normally her that has the nonsensical sentences so she laughs at him. He flushes a little but shoots her one of the small smirks she likes so much.

They get back in good time, just as the light is starting to fade. She feels a bit useless, standing around watching him put up the tent, but he clearly doesn’t need her assistance. So she grabs his keys and opens the trunk, taking the food to the picnic table and sorting through it. He’d brought frozen steaks which had thawed nicely while they’d walked, and it looked like grilled vegetables to accompany it.

[And a ridiculous assortment of treats for dessert. She wouldn’t have pegged him for a guy with a sweet tooth].

“I might take these down and start cooking,” she half-asks, half-says. “I know it’s early, but I’m really starving.”

“It’s because it’s starting to get dark,” he says. “I always eat early when camping. And go to sleep earlier than normal. It’s the lack of light.”

So she heads to the communal area. He had brought a portable stove, but she figured they might as well use the amenities they’d paid for. She starts up the barbeque, and is joined a few minutes later by an older lady who also puts out an assortment of food on the other side of the bench. She starts industriously cutting vegetables.

“Howdy,” the other lady says. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Vic replies. “Nice hiking around here. I haven’t been before.”

“Washington state is one of the most beautiful places,” the other woman says. “My husband and I are driving around the states as a retirement holiday. We’ve spent longer here than we’d planned, but that is the good thing about being retired!”

“Where are you originally from?” Vic asks, starting to chop the vegetables as the barbeque heats up.

“We’ve come up from St Louis,” she replies. “My name’s Donna, by the way. That’s my husband, Jim, coming over.”

“I’m Victoria,” Vic replies, as Donna’s husband comes up to where the two of them are preparing food. He’s holding a beer, and sits himself down on a nearby picnic table.

“Hello,” Jim says kindly. “Nice to see some other folks out and about. Think the cold’s scared a lot of people away, but it’s really not that bad.”

“We are in an RV,” Donna points out to him. “Are you in a tent, Victoria?”

“Yes, I don’t know how it will go tonight,” Vic says with a slight laugh. She’s already donned her jacket. “This was kind of … a spur of the moment decision this morning.”

“You’re not here on your own?” Donna frowns.

“No, no,” Vic assures her. “My, uh, Lucas is setting up the tent. And I’m starving, so …”

They both laugh.

“Happy to share the barbeque?” Jim asks, taking a swig of his beer.

“Yeah, we don’t have that much,” Vic replies, taking stock. Yams, mushrooms, tomatoes, onion, and steak. She really should have been paying more attention, because there is not a single green vegetable in sight.

“Hey,” Lucas greets as he comes up to them.

“You didn’t buy salad?” Vic accuses, pointing the knife at him. He looks taken aback, and gestures to the vegetables in front of her.

“There’s vegetables!” he protests lightly. She rolls her eyes at him. “Salad’s over-rated.”

“Salad is good for you,” she tells him. “Next time, I’m going to actually be awake and watch what you’re buying. Dinner is basically just going to be steak and a couple of vegetables, followed by enough chocolate and candy to give us both diabetes.” He laughs. “Anyway, this is Donna and Jim, they’re travelling around from St Louis as a retirement thing.”

“Hi, I’m Lucas,” he smiles and shakes their hands, pausing when he gets to Jim, gaze lingering on the man's beer. “Where’s our alcohol, Vic?”

“I just grabbed the food,” she says. He heaves a mock sigh but lightly presses a kiss to her temple as he walks past back to the car.

“He woke this morning and said, let’s go camping,” Vic explains to the amused looking couple. “Drags me to the shops when I’m not awake yet and so I wasn’t really paying attention to what he thought constituted food.”

“You’re more than welcome to share our salad,” Donna offers.

“If you’ll share your dessert,” Jim adds.

“No, Jim, you’ve actually had a heart attack already,” Donna scolds. “That’s why we _don’t_ buy that kind of food.”

Vic frowns. “Actually, his dad died young of a heart attack,” she makes a mental note to address that to him later.

Lucas returns with the pack of cider and cracks one, sliding it to Vic before opening another.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Start grilling those,” she points to the chopped vegetables.

“So you two are local?” Donna asks.

“Seattle, just a overnight trip,” Vic replies. “He has work Monday.”

“What do you do?” Jim asks.

“We’re both firefighters,” Lucas replies. “Vic just doesn’t have a shift until Tuesday.”

“Good to know there’s people that can rescue us nearby,” Donna says.

Vic’s somewhat surprised at how easily the conversation flows with the older couple. They were both schoolteachers, and are now semi-retired (they both pick up occasional relieving work now). They’ve been on the road for three months now, doing a lazy circle west before they’ll head back home for their grand-daughter’s wedding.

It feels very old-fashioned, as Jim and Lucas grill the food and chat about sports, Vic and Donna take a seat and drink. Vic can feel Donna eyeing off the age difference between her and Lucas. But she doesn’t say anything, just asks Vic about her job.

The four of them end up eating together, and right as the meal is done, Jim produces a Scrabble board from somewhere.

“Jim, I’m sure these two young people would rather not spend any more time with old farts like us,” Donna scolds him.

Vic glances at Lucas, who shrugs minutely. It’s clear that the two retired teachers have been glad to have different company, and they’ve been surprisingly interesting to talk to.

“It’s been a while since I played,” Vic says. She can remember playing it with Mrs Blake, the neighbour who used to babysit.

“Don’t start making excuses for why you’re going to lose,” Lucas teases.

“Oh please, Ripley, you wish,” she snarks back. He grins at her.

“You really don’t have to,” Donna assures them, but it’s too late. Jim’s already set out the board, and started to mix the tiles.

Lucas, for his part, reaches down into their bag and starts pulling out his dessert. A block of chocolate hits the table, followed by a pack of gummy bears, some marshmallows, a small packet of M&Ms and a small packet of skittles (she’d added that to the cart when she’d seen the M&Ms).

Vic takes the packet of M&M’s and the one of skittles and opens both into a bowl from his camping trip.

“What are you doing?” Lucas asks with concern.

“Surprise bowl,” she explains. “It’s really kind of weird.”

“This is a concerning amount of junk for two such healthy looking people,” Donna scolds them.

Vic points at Lucas. He shrugs.

“We get exercise at work,” he says defensively, but puts back the gummy bears and marshmallows. He grabs a handful of candy from the surprise bowl, and tips them into his mouth. “Oh, that is weird. I think I like it.”

Scrabble’s more fun than Vic expected. Jim keeps sneaking candy when Donna’s not looking, aided and abetted by Lucas. Donna, surprisingly, is the one to keep trying to make up words, but Vic’s here to win.

[She does, narrowly. Jim comes second. Donna’s a distant last, with Lucas somewhere in the middle].

By that point, everyone’s stifling yawns. Clean up is quick as all four pitch in.

“Thank you for eating with us and playing,” Donna says earnestly, and they all shake hands. “You’re such a sweet couple.”

Vic doesn’t have to look at Lucas to know they’re both blushing, but she smiles and sheepishly tangles her fingers with Lucas’ as they bid them goodnight. Lucas had the presence of mind to bring a head-lamp, and they make their way back to their camp.

He doesn’t settle inside the tent, though, rather sits on the nearby picnic table, legs stretched out, tipping his head back against the table.

“Look at the stars,” he cajoles.

She joins him. The table’s not particularly comfortable, so she worms closer and rests her head on his shoulder instead. He throws an arm around her shoulder and tugs her close.

He points out constellations, explaining sheepishly that he’d once thought of being an astronaut. He hadn’t, in the end, because his mother had disapproved of him entering the military.

Eventually, the cold gets to them, and they head into their tent. Lucas had already set out two sleeping bags, and Vic worms her way into the one he indicates. It smells new, and a tag digs into her neck.

“Did you buy this this morning?” she asks, surprised, sitting up and tugging the tag off.

“I only need the one sleeping bag,” he points out, sliding into his own. She settles back down, sliding as close to him as she can. She is cold, though, and her teeth continue to chatter, so he flicks on the head torch again. He unzips his sleeping bag, then unzips hers.

“What are you doing?”

“I got one that will zip together with mine,” he says, looking a little embarrassed.

“That’s really cute,” Vic hears herself say, and slides out to make it easier for him. He rearranges the sleeping bags, zipping them together, and gesturing for her to get in first. He slides in after, and immediately wraps himself around her, clicking off the light.

“You’re so hot,” she says into his shoulder. His shoulders shake as he laughs awkwardly, and she rolls her eyes unseen. “Yes, yes, in both senses.”

She yawns, tired from the hiking, and falls asleep.

She wakes up the next morning just as it starts to get light. He’s snoring softly in her ear, his chest plastered to her back.

It’s really nice and she’s content to just lie there in his arms, half dozing. It’s not long before she hears him start to stir.

“Morning,” she breathes.

“Morning,” his voice is huskier than usual from sleep, and he presses a kiss to her neck.

“You’re so scruffy,” she comments, rolling in his arms and running her fingers through his short beard. He smiles lazily, leaning in for a kiss. She worms one of her hands out of the sleeping bag and into his hair. He has softer curls than she does, and so on one side his hair has fallen into curls and the other side is sticking up at odd angles.

“It’s cold,” she comments, wriggling her hand back down between them as the kiss ends. He waggles his eyebrows at her.

“I can warm you up,” he says, voice deep, but a hint of laughter in his tone. She smacks the hand between them lightly on his chest, laughing as she rolls her eyes. But it’s kind of what she was hoping for, so she leans in and kisses him. He pulls her on top of her, and gets to work industriously removing her shirt. His hands leave a trail of fire against her bare skin.

She’s never had sex in a sleeping bag before, and while getting her shirt off was easy, and it’s easy enough for him to sit up with both of them for her to get his shirt off, their pants are much more difficult. She nearly knees him in completely the wrong area trying to wriggle out of her leggings.

“Next time,” he laughs against her neck, “next time, no leggings.”

“I’m only not wearing leggings in summer,” she says. “And in summer I’m not sharing a sleeping bag with you, Mr Furnace.”

His smile is sweet, and Vic knows it’s because of the unspoken assumption that by summer they’ll still be doing this. They kiss languidly, taking their time, and he’s already had her come once when there’s another awkward pause and moment of fumbling as he struggles to put the condom on in the sleeping bag. [She hadn’t missed the fact that it was conveniently to hand in the backpack next to him].

“I’d say we don’t need to bother with the condom,” she says, nipping at his neck. “If we weren’t in a sleeping bag.”

They’ve only not used a condom once before, at work, when they were too horny to think of it. But she’s been increasingly thinking over the last couple of weeks to say to him not to bother. She’d liked the feel of him and she’s on birth control, and they’re both clean.

And she doesn’t want to sleep with anyone else, and hopes – thinks – he’s not planning on sleeping with anyone else either.

He just grunts, then slips his hands over her ass, clearly having succeeded getting the condom on. He guides her onto him, setting an unhurried pace.

As much as she likes how attentive and good a listener he is generally, she particularly loves how quiet and focused he is during sex. Lucas always makes her feel special, like she and her enjoyment is the only thing that matters.

It’s not the hottest sex they’ve ever had, but Vic figures that it will never get hotter than him fucking her in the turnout room at work, still half in uniform. But this is better, in a way, less rushed, and they can savour it.

She curls her face into his shoulder, stroking his beard again after they’re done. She dozes off for a bit, waking a bit when he starts to wriggle out.

“Sorry, sweetheart, need to pee,” he says.

It’s such an old-fashioned endearment and she loves it. She enjoys the view as he dresses, bending to pick up the condom to dispose of it. Fleetingly she hopes he doesn’t run into Donna or Jim carrying that.

She’s not really tired now, so gets up herself. It’s a little after seven thirty when she checks her watch. She gets dressed, and starts untangling their sleeping bags.

Lucas is back quickly, and they wordlessly break down the camp. She leaves the tent to him, wandering to the toilets herself and washing her face. She makes a face in the mirror; her hair is everywhere, and Lucas had thrown her hair elastic somewhere in the tent. She hopes she has a spare hair elastic in her bag. (There is).

She sets out breakfast just at their little picnic table and they eat apples and sandwiches.

“I don’t really want to go back,” Vic comments, looking around at the trees.

“I take it you liked camping then?” he asks, a soft smile creeping across his face.

“I really did,” she sounds surprised at herself. “I liked hiking with you, I liked camping, I liked that we randomly made friends with two old people. I liked the stars. I like the air.” She pauses. “I like how you are out here.”

He tilts his head in a silent question.

“You’re so much more relaxed. Content. It’s like…when Travis meditates, there’s this hour afterwards where he’s super zen and settled. You’re like that here.”

“I guess it’s the same idea,” he says. “You meditate often with Montgomery?”

“No I fell asleep,” she admits. He laughs. “That seems more like you.”

“I went because he thought it might help,” she admits, and tells him about the blue fire. He listens and while he clearly has to bite his tongue on her avoiding it during calls, does so. They pack up the car, and he tells her about how he was afraid of heights after a call where he got trapped on an upper level, and how it took him months to get over it.

They agree they have time to do one more hike, so they set off. They amble along, and Vic thinks they’re both trying to stave off the inevitable. At midday, however, they both sigh and quicken their pace.

They get back into the car and Vic’s phone is buzzing. She’d forgotten she’d left it there. She picks it up, displaying the screen to Lucas with a cautionary finger across her lips. He nods, starting the car and turning the radio down.

“Hi Travis,” she says brightly, answering the phone. Lucas pulls out of the carpark. “Sorry, I…I went hiking and reception was not good. With a friend, we’re on our way back. Oh, Grant’s restaurant deal went through? That’s great! Um, celebratory dinner tonight?”

She glances at Lucas who mouths to her, _go_.

“Sure, I’ll be there. Sorry I didn’t mean to worry you, I’ll tell you next time I go. I’ll see you tonight, Travis.”

Lucas says nothing as she hangs up, just turns the volume on the radio up again. She toes off her shows and sets her feet up on his dashboard, pulling her Agatha Christie book out again. She figures she’ll be able to finish it by the time they get back to Seattle. She thinks she knows who the murderer is.

After a few miles, Lucas reaches over and takes the hand not holding the book. She looks over at him, and he flashes her a quick, soft smile. She squeezes his hand, holding it on her lap, and returns her attention back to the book. Vic hasn’t forgotten that their situation is complicated, but right now, it feels so easy.

She thinks she might be falling in love with him and the thought should terrify her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what that was. It just exploded from the last mental image of Vic reading in his car with her feet on the dashboard.


	6. External Review

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for themes.  
> It was bound to happen at some point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this universe Gibson is on medical leave right now...hence his absence

“Do you think she’s dating someone?” Andy’s words were only slightly slurred as she leaned over the small table towards Maya.

“Vic?” Maya snorted, taking a long sip of her pink and yellow cocktail. “No way could she keep that quiet.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t talk much about her family or anything,” Andy pointed out. “I mean, I think I only found out she was originally from Chicago a couple of weeks ago!”

There was a long pause as Maya’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah, but you think she could hide a relationship?” she replied sceptically.

“Where else would she be right now? And last Friday? And the Wednesday before that?” Andy listed.

“She had that peer support group thing Wednesday,” Maya interrupted, but raised her hand to forestall the further list of dates she was sure Andy had prepared. “But I get your point.”

There was a long pause.

“I mean,” Maya started slowly. “We could always…”

“Drop by?” Andy suggested, eyes sparkling.

“She might not be home?”

“But we could then try to meet her when she _got_ home.”

There was another long pause as the two of them looked at each other.

“This is a terrible idea,” Maya said finally, draining her drink. “Let’s do it.”

Vic had long since given them the code to her apartment building, and after a short uber drive and a couple of flights of stairs, they were standing in front of her door.

“She’s definitely home,” Andy nodded to the light shining under from under her door that was visible in the dim hallway.

“And behind door number one,” Maya joked, knocking loudly.

A few beats went by, and Andy, impatient, reached over her friend’s shoulder and rapped loudly on the door again.

A few more moments went past before the door was yanked open.

Vic’s smile faded fast on seeing them, however, and sounded dismayed as she said, “oh, it’s you guys.”

“Well, good to see you too, Vic,” Andy snapped, hurt. She opened her mouth to continue but Maya nudged her in the side. Andy glanced over to see her friend staring past Vic’s shoulder, straight into her small apartment.

Andy’s jaw dropped as she followed her friend’s gaze to see Chief Ripley, the _boss_ , standing at their friend’s kitchen counter wearing a sweater and holding a knife in one hand and an unsuspecting vegetable in the other.

There was a long awkward moment of silence, Maya and Andy exchanging incredulous glances as Vic closed her eyes and pinched at the bridge of her nose. Vic glanced back at Ripley, who shrugged, expression neutral as it always seemed to be, and set the onion down, beginning to chop it.

“You better come in,” Vic said resignedly, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

Andy and Maya exchanged another glance, entering the apartment and toeing off their shoes at the door. It was hard not to notice Ripley’s work boots haphazardly tossed into the same pile as Vic’s shoes, but what was perhaps more telling was the pair of sneakers that were definitely too big for Vic lying to one side.

“Herrera, Bishop,” Ripley sounded unruffled as he greeted them. He looked to Vic. “Wine?”

“Definitely,” she said somewhat faintly, looking over to Maya and Andy. Andy nodded wordlessly, and Maya said “yes” emphatically.

Ripley set down the knife, and unerringly headed to the cabinet where Vic kept her wine glasses, pulling out four glasses and pouring a generous portion into each glass from a bottle he pulled from the fridge. Vic handed a glass each to Maya and Andy before picking up the third one and herding them to the lounge.

“Vic…” Andy realised she didn’t know how to end the sentence so she took a big sip of the wine.

Her friend winced.

“I’d ask what he was doing but that seems like a dumb question,” Andy said finally.

“Cooking a quiche?” Vic tried for levity, but it fell flat.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Maya asked harshly.

Vic raised her hands and shrugged somewhat helplessly. “I – we – this wasn’t planned,” she said. “It just sort of … happened?”

“Did you fall?” Maya said snidely. “No, seriously, did you happen to accidentally trip into his bed or something?”

“Hey,” Vic looked up from the floor, glaring at Maya. “Just…ease up?”

“He’s _the boss_ ,” Maya said pointedly.

“I know. It…that’s not …it hasn’t been relevant,” Vic said.

“It hasn’t been relevant that he’s the boss?” Maya’s voice rose. Andy, still watching the Chief watched him tense up and pause in sweeping the chopped onion into a salad bowl.

“No, it isn’t,” Vic was emphatic.

“So you told him about how you were so scared of fire you had to fight the urge to run in the opposite direction?” Maya asked.

“Wait?” Andy tore her gaze from Ripley, focussing sharply on Vic. “What?!”

“What the hell, Bishop?” Vic hissed angrily, glancing meaningfully towards Andy.

“Well, how do you think we feel about you talking about us to the Chief?” Maya asked. “He’s only the person _in_ _charge_ of the entire department.”

“You’re vastly over-estimating my interest in what you do day in and day out, Bishop,” Ripley spoke up for the first time since offering wine, his words firm. “And you under-estimate how well she speaks of you as her friends and colleagues when she does talk about you.”

Maya looked over at him, his tone not sharp, exactly, but it was clear he was drawing a line in the sand of what he thought was acceptable.

“You don’t exactly have a high moral ground here, sir,” she retorted sharply. He flinched.

“This isn’t illegal, Bishop,” Vic said fiercely.

“Just unethical – he’s the Chief of the Department! You’re barely more than a rookie; you can’t say that there isn’t a power inequality –”

“Do I look particularly oppressed to you right now, Maya?” Vic interrupted. “Because last I checked, I haven’t suddenly become unable to say what I think or lose the ability to consent.”

Ripley let out a chuckle, and the three women turned slowly to look at him.

“It’s just…she yelled at me. Twice. At work, before any of this,” he said. “She _does not_ have a problem expressing her opinion.”

“I apologised,” Vic said, tone laced with both mild embarrassment and amusement.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve only apologised for one of those occasions,” he said mildly, waving the sponge he’d been using at her.

“I was right the other time,” she said. “I just…didn’t express myself well.”

“You were not right the other time,” he said mildly.

“Oh, we’re going to play that game?” Vic challenged. “Look me in the eye and tell me I was wrong about the real issue –”

“Okay, you weren’t wholly wrong,” he conceded. “You were right that it’s my responsibility; everything that happens in this department is my responsibility. You were overly simplistic in your assessment of the situation. And we’re not going to discuss the decision made.”

“What I’m hearing you say; is I was right in substance but not style,” Vic said triumphantly. He chuckled, shaking his head, and opening his mouth to respond.

“What the hell are the two of you talking about?” Maya interrupted.

They exchanged glances.

“What I said in the peer review,” Vic summarised. “Why station 23 sucks-”

“Victoria,” Ripley sighed heavily.

“You just admitted they did,” she replied.

“This is becoming a circular argument,” he pointed out. “Station 23 has … some issues … but it does not ‘suck’.”

“Wait, when was the other time you yelled at him then?” Maya asked with a frown. They’d known about that time.

“The skyscraper,” Vic said. “I shouldn’t have.” She looked at Andy, and said firmly, “just so you know, turns out being trapped on the fifth floor of a burning skyscraper cures you from a fear of fire. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I’m very glad to hear you’re not scared of fire anymore,” Andy said with a frown, before turning to Ripley. “And you’re fine with knowing she was scared of fire?”

“We weren’t…together then,” Vic said.

“He seems to not care now,” Andy supplied.

“As I said, I’m over it.”

“What would you do if that wasn’t the case?” Maya asked Ripley directly. “If she told you now that she was scared of fire?”

Ripley finished drying his hands on a tea cloth, picking up his glass of wine.

“I’d say I get it,” he said calmly. “I’d say that I went through a four month period where I was terrified of heights. And that desensitisation, and counselling usually resolves these things and it’s very normal after a traumatic experience to be triggered by various things. I’d tell her to not do what I did when I was scared of heights and just avoid the topic as that endangers the team, that it needs to be addressed and I’m here for that.”

Andy could see Maya visibly sit back at how honest he was, and how Vic was obviously familiar with this part of his history.

“And how would you address it?” Andy asked.

“Sullivan got him drunk, tied him up, and suspended him from the top of the fire ladder after it had been fully extended from the engine,” Vic interjected casually.

“I wouldn’t do something that extreme,” Ripley chuckled. “I’d start by lighting a normal fireplace. If that didn’t work, yeah, we’d go to the incinerator. Is that an acceptable answer?”

Somehow, the Chief managed to not sound like he was telling them it was an acceptable answer. Rather, he sounded genuinely interested in what they thought of his approach.

“That…sounds pretty reasonable,” Maya said begrudgingly. Andy was forced to agree; it seemed to straddle a nice line of professional and personal.

“That’s his middle name,” Vic said fondly, smiling at him broadly.

“I thought it was boring?” Ripley smirked back at her. Their eyes caught and Andy wondered how she’d not noticed that Vic’s harmless little crush on the Chief was clearly a bit more than just a work crush, and how she’d not noticed that the Chief had a crush on her friend right back.

“How long have you hid this from us?” Maya asked, much of the anger now drained away. Ripley and Vic broke eye contact.

“Since Miller’s birthday,” Vic replied sheepishly.

“Wait, wait how did _you_ keep a secret for that long!?” Andy asked incredulously. Vic shrugged.

“I guess this mattered,” she said, softly, blushing a little.

Andy and Maya exchanged glances. This had been going on for months. She’d kept it quiet because it was important. He was in her kitchen on a weeknight, cooking dinner with her. Realisation dawned on the two of them.

"Oh this is so much worse than I thought," Maya muttered.

“This is a relationship,” Andy said quietly, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. “You’re _in a relationship_.”

Vic blushed and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, almost in wonder as she looked back at him. “I think we are.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Ripley, clearly unable to hear the last few words exchanged, interrupted. He was standing at Vic’s table, having laid out four places.

“Good, I’m starving,” Vic said, jumping up.

“Should we go?” Andy said, suddenly uncertain and suddenly sure they were intruding.

“No, come and eat,” Vic said firmly. Both Maya and Andy glanced at Ripley, who nodded.

“We’ve got quiche, and _salad_ ,” he said, gesturing for them to serve themselves.

"Salad's good for you," Vic quipped absently, as Ripley reached back to the kitchen counter and grabbed the bottle of wine, holding it up.

Vic and Maya both opted to refill their empty glasses. Andy shook her head. She noted that Ripley had only drunk a little of his.

“Do you want some water, Andy?” Vic asked.

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks,” Andy replied, watching in fascination as Ripley immediately headed to retrieve water glasses and the jug of water Vic kept in the fridge.

They sat down to eat, initially in a silence that stretched.

“This is really good,” Maya said, eventually, taking another bite of the quiche.

“Mm,” Andy nodded in agreement.

The silence stretched a little again before Vic cleared her throat.

“What prompted this visit, anyway?” she asked, stabbing at her plate.

“We haven’t seen as much of you,” Andy said with a shrug. “We…I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

A phone rang, interrupting the stilted conversation. Ripley pushed his chair back, and grabbed his phone off the counter, frowning as he saw the caller ID.

“Ripley,” he said, answering it and standing up. The three women watched him curiously, seeing his expression close over. He hurried over to the lounge, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and switching on Vic’s TV, rapidly cycling through channels until he landed on a local network.

“ _Fire continues to blaze, with more crews arriving…_ ” the TV announced, Ripley lowering the volume as he continued to listen to the caller, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, I’ve got it on TV,” he said.

Vic got up from the table, taking Ripley’s plate into the kitchen. She pulled out a roll of al-foil, and started to wrap up his dinner, as Ripley headed into her bedroom leaving the TV on.

Andy and Maya set their forks down, and swivelled their chairs to watch the TV screen.

It looked like a terrace house on the end of a row had caught alight. Andy counted at least three crews present with a fourth arriving, and she immediately knew it was because it had spread across to the next house.

“Wait, you’ve been unable to vent?” Ripley exited Vic’s bedroom, now wearing his uniform trousers. He cradled his phone between his ear and shoulder as he quickly buttoned his uniform shirt over a white t-shirt, eyes fixed on the TV. “In the second-to-end house? Is everyone out?”

“You can’t predict flashover, then! That RIT needs to be pulled. No, vent the place properly and take up defensive positions; if a flashover happens we’ll be pulling out six bodies, not two,” Ripley’s voice was harsh, and Andy and Maya both felt a chill run down their spines. “No, I’m telling you, the TV’s giving me street views and you’ve got cracking windows there on the second floor and the smoke – look this is 101, we need to vent first. Pull the RIT back now, that’s an order.”

Andy and Maya watched as there was a sudden burst of activity on the scene, and they watched as crews near the second house started to pull back. They watched as two firefighters descended from ladders from the second house.

“Cut holes in the roof of the next two houses, and vent sideways in the next two houses once you get flashover in this one,” he ordered, watching tensely as a further two firefighters appeared at the second storey windows. “Better to have holes cut in your walls and roof and smoke damage then have the entire row go up. The block’s been evacuated? Good.”

The two firefighters on the ladders reached the ground, and the ones from the windows started to climb out.

A moment passed, and then another.

Then, suddenly, even from across the room, the yelling emanating from Ripley’s mobile was audible. He closed his eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath, reopening to watch as the TV pictures – clearly on a delay – showed what had happened.

They’d all seen flashover before; but knowing that there were two people in the building made a difference. One firefighter had been caught two thirds of the way down the ladder, and the force of the flashover clearly pushed them off balance, and they fell the remainder of the way. Their team rapidly pulled them to safety.

Ripley cursed almost inaudibly.

“Who was in the building?” his tone was softer now. He turned away from the TV, going to the entrance way and awkwardly hopping as he pulled on his loosely laced boots.

“Yeah, I’ll be about fifteen away. I’m going to stop by HQ to grab the new toy; not quite how I wanted its first run to go,” he said grimly. “Nobody is to enter; you said the first building did that as well? Let’s focus on a mixed approach; I want crews interior to the fourth house cutting holes into the third and fighting from the fourth house into the third. Everything else on an exterior attack, with a low threshold for pulling the interior teams if it starts to look like we can’t hold the third house.”

Maya continued to watch the TV, but Andy watched as Vic stepped up to him, pushing a paper bag with the uneaten part of his dinner wrapped in it into his spare hand. She hesitated for a moment, seeing Andy’s eyes on them, before reaching up and pulling him into a quick, chaste kiss.

He smiled sadly at her as they pulled apart, and with no further fanfare, headed out the door, continuing to issue instructions.

“What’s the new toy?” Andy asked.

Vic moved to pick up her plate and switched to sitting on the couch in front of the TV. “He got approval for funding for a drone. The idea is to use it to look through buildings and scout around wildfires.” She picked up the remote Ripley had tossed on the couch and turned the volume up so they could hear it.

“That’s a good idea,” Maya said approvingly. “They can use it to look through that second house and see … without endangering anyone.”

“Look, are we okay?” Vic asked after a long moment of silence, staring at her lap.

“What would you do if we said we weren’t?” Andy asked, moving to join her on the couch.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’d try to talk you around, I guess.”

“It’s a lot,” Andy said. “He’s the boss’ boss’ boss. And you’re not just sleeping with him, you’re cooking with him, and talking about funding for drones, and arguing about station 23’s fitness.”

“We don’t talk a lot about work, really,” Vic said. “At least, not things that put him or me in an awkward position – we do talk about things like drones and we’ve been talking a bit about bad calls we’ve had. That’s the first time we’ve ever gone back and discussed what I said during the peer review, and you saw he cut it off.”

“What _do_ you talk about?” Maya asked, curiously.

Vic shrugged almost helplessly. “I don’t know…stuff? We’re watching _The Good Place_ at the moment. He’s trying to convince me cricket’s a sport. We like the same kind of trashy murder novels. I don’t know.”

“ _Where_ is this going?” Andy asked. “You know this won’t end well. He’s, what, twenty years older?”

“Only fifteen,” Vic corrected automatically. “And…look, I don’t know. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen, but … I like him. I really like him. And I don’t know where this goes, I guess it will end at some point, but for now it’s _good_. And I think you know him well enough to agree that he’s a _good_ man and it will be fine if – when this ends.”

Maya sighed heavily. “I think this is a bad idea,” she warned. “I’ve done the relationship with the older man. It didn’t go well.”

“And I’ve done the relationship with the co-worker,” Andy added. “And that…imploded. And we had no where near the conflict of interest that is involved in this relationship.”

“I know, I know. But it’s good _now_ ,” Vic looked up finally to see twin expressions of worry looking back at her.

“You always have lived in the moment,” Andy said with a sigh. “Look, okay. I’m okay.” She looked pointedly at Maya.

“I will kick his ass, you just say the word,” Maya said fiercely. “I think this is a _terrible_ idea; he’s the boss. If I hadn’t watched you both just now, the way you talked to him on the same level, I would not be okay. But he doesn’t seem to have an issue with the way you talked to him, so okay.”

“Does anyone else know?” Andy asked, resuming her meal.

Vic blushed furiously. “Gibson.”

“GIBSON!?” hurt and surprise echoed in their voices. “You told _Gibson_?”

“No, I didn’t tell him!” Vic exclaimed.

“Ew, tell me he didn’t walk in –“

“No no no,” Vic said hastily, interrupting Maya. “No no no no, no! It was a caller ID issue. I’d asked Gibson for advice on a hypothetical situation where I’d kind of … left… the morning after in terms of what I should do next and then Lu-Ripley called and Gibson handed me my phone and saw the caller ID.”

“What did you have _Lu_ -Ripley in as?” Andy teased.

“Ripley,” Vic muttered. “From when he was filling in as captain, remember, we all got his number.”

Maya laughed. “Please tell me he’s not still in as Ripley!”

Vic blushed again. “No I changed it.” Seeing their raised eyebrows, she shrugged. “To Lucas.”

A sudden clamour of voices drew their attention back to the TV. They watched as a gaggle of reporters swarmed a dark SUV which had just pulled in. Ripley exited the vehicle, carrying his paper bag dinner in one hand and a silver case in the other.

“Chief, Chief,” reporters swarmed him. “Is it true that there were two firefighters in that building when the explosion happened? How many more houses will be affected?”

“He’s literally only just got there, come on,” Andy complained.

“I’ve just arrived, I’m going to go and receive a full handover of the situation and we’ll issue a statement in due course,” he said firmly but calmly, ducking away from the press under the cordon line.

The three of them continued to watch. It was ninety minutes until Ripley issued a statement, confirming that they continued to actively fight the fire but had brought it under control. He’d then said that with the use of new drone technology, they’d sadly confirmed the deaths of two firefighters and a civilian in the second house, and that retrieval efforts would occur once the fire had been extinguished and engineers had confirmed the structure was sound; as the two of them had been on the second floor.

After he’d finished, Vic flicked the TV off.

“Guess I know what we’re doing tomorrow,” Andy sighed.

“You mean today,” Vic said, glancing at her watch. “You guys can crash here. If you want.”

It made sense, Vic lived much closer to the station than them and they’d done this before after a night out. [Luckily Vic had a pullout couch]. So they pulled out spare sheets and pillows.

 

* * *

 

Walking into the station that morning, the TV was on and the boys were listening to an update Ripley was providing.

“Surely he has to be handing over?” Maya said with a frown. “He was there last night on the news – he can’t’ve slept!”

“He won’t leave,” unexpectedly it was Travis who spoke up, his face grim. “I…he said to me once that he doesn’t leave until every firefighter who can’t has. He was on the recovery team for Michael.”

“We might get called to it,” Miller said, solemnly. “There’s the two firefighters and the civilian they were trying to save. Ripley’s said that the engineers have okayed it.”

“Do we have names yet?” Andy asked.

“Lt Jon O’Neill and Daniel Jamieson, from station 7,” Ben replied.

Vic inhaled sharply, and everyone looked at her. “Dan and I went through the Academy together,” she said quietly, looking a little stunned. “He was a nice guy.”

“Jon was at 88 with the Chief and I back in the day. He was our rookie. He is – was – a good man,” Sullivan spoke up from the corner of the room. There was a long moment of silence. “Anyway, now that we’re all here, Chief Ripley called me on my way in. We’ll be helping with recovery for the three victims. Has anyone done recovery for a fellow firefighter before?”

Only Miller and Montgomery raised their hands.

“Sir –” Travis said slowly.

“Not you, Montgomery,” Sullivan interrupted. “Chief made me aware of what happened last year. You’ll hold the fort here on our aid car.” He paused, surveying the group. “I’ll take Herrera, Bishop, Miller and Warren. The five of us will, with the Chief, be the recovery team. Hughes, you stay with Montgomery here on the aid car, given you know one of the victims.”

Vic and Montgomery both looked relieved.

* * *

 

They got waved through the scene, and directed up to the command centre. Ripley had donned his gear already, minus his SCBA.

He looked like shit, Andy thought. She was used to seeing him all professionally dressed, tidy hair, shiny boots, pressed uniform.

Right now, he looked like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedge then thrown into an ash pit. His hair was a mess from his helmet, his white shirt was grey with ash and soot and sweat, and his face was covered in sweat and ash.

Look, she got where Vic was coming from. He was actually pretty hot; and weirdly, more hot right now than he was in his shiny Chief clothes.

“Sullivan,” his voice was hoarse, like he’d been shouting all night. Andy figured he probably had been. Ripley’s eyes were clearly searching the group, and he looked askance at Sullivan when he spotted Warren.

“I brought Warren instead of Hughes because she knew Jamieson from the Academy. Normally I’d just ask if we could have a sixth man supplied from another team, but while Warren’s a rookie his surgical background means I’m sure he can handle this,” Sullivan explained crisply. “Hughes is manning the aid car with Montgomery. Miller and Montgomery are the only ones who’ve done recovery for a firefighter.”

“I agree with your assessment,” Ripley moved on without blinking. “Herrera’s with me, you take Warren, Bishop with Miller. We have three victims to retrieve. One of them is the occupant of the building. Drone footage shows us he’s right at the back of the house, on the second floor. Sullivan and Warren, I’ll get you to retrieve him. Jamieson and O’Neill are together about five metres down the hallway. One of them had stepped into a room, the other in the hallway. Herrera and I will retrieve the one from the room; I want Bishop and Miller to take the hallway. We’re all going to be entering via the second floor windows at the rear of the property. We’ll get Sullivan and Warren in first, get their man out. Then the four of us will enter. The engineers have okayed us going in, but obviously be careful. Any questions?”

There were none, so the six of them put on their full gear and pushed three gurneys around the back. It was a narrow laneway, and unfortunately the aid cars couldn’t back into it.

Ripley gestured for Herrera to stay with him, and called out to a police officer nearby, asking him to push the press back. The other four had started working on setting up the ladders for their entry point.

“This is not intended to be subtle,” Ripley said, turning to Herrera after the policeman walked away. “Last night an evacuation order was issued. O’Neill and Jamieson were near the occupant, Mr Estevez. They did not evacuate the building, instead, they tried to save their victim, and then the fire cut them off from their entry. A RIT was sent in to try to control the flames and secure their exit. What were the mistakes made from what I’ve just told you?”

“Why not evacuate from the C side?” Andy asked. Ripley gave a short nod. “Was the RIT sent in before or after the evacuation call was made?”

“After.”

“That’s risky,” even without having been on the scene, Andy knew that this call would haunt her. Seeing the minimal time between Ripley ordering the RIT team to be pulled and the flashover that nearly claimed their lives had been sobering. She winced, before continuing to the last main mistake. “And…O’Neill and Jamieson didn’t evacuate when ordered.”

“That’s right,” Ripley said. There was no trace of the softness that had been present during dinner the previous night, nor the fatigue that had been evident only five minutes earlier; and Andy realised that he was very, very good at compartmentalising. This was the Fire Chief. “I told you at your Incinerator trial that I disagreed with your call. I know that you resented and disagreed with being ranked last. I assure you, we have cameras inside the building and I _know_ what some of the other candidates did. However, there’s recklessness, and then there’s insubordinatation. I am the Chief, and I am responsible for everything that happens, every injury and every order from a junior officer. I need to know that they’ll call a mayday no matter what. I need to trust that my lieutenants and my captains and my battalion chiefs will follow _my_ orders.”

“I am responsible for the deaths of two firefighters last night,” he continues, taking a deep breath. “In the same way that I am responsible for you and your decisions as you are one of my lieutenants. You have good instincts, the makings of an excellent leader, and you have compassion for the people you treat. But I don’t need heroes. Heroes wind up like my friend Jon up there. And that’s no comfort to his wife, Cindy, whom I called last night to tell her that her eight year old son and five year old daughter are fatherless. Got it?”

He didn’t once raise his voice, delivering everything flatly and quietly. That somehow made the lesson a little worse. 

 “Yes, sir,” Andy said softly.

“Okay,” he nodded, and started heading towards the ladders.

Warren and Sullivan’s victim was close to the window, and they recovered him in next to no time, gently lowering him to the ground, their faces grim.

Andy and Ripley were the next up the ladders, making their way down the corridor followed by Miller and Dean.

Andy had thought it would be no different to any other recovery of a body. There was the appearance of the body – severe burns were quite distressing to see, the smell even through the SCBA that seemed to permeate the skin, the feel of a dead body’s inertia as she moved it for one of the last times. She was prepared for this.

She was wrong. She hadn’t been prepared in the slightest.

There something viscerally appalling in seeing the victim clothed like she was. They were picking up Ripley’s friend, O’Neill. Through their SCBA masks she could see his face was tight and lined.

She’d had a lot of close calls, and all of sudden they seemed to weigh her down like they hadn't before.

They were quiet as they solemnly bagged and transported Lt O’Neill’s corpse out of the building after his crewmate, placing him on a gurney and wheeling him solemnly around the building.

The site was oddly silent and still, as the crews that were still working overhaul had lined up on the route for the aid cars out of the site.

The silence was broken by a commotion near the cordon, and a middle aged lady rushed into the red zone, followed by a couple of police officers and a middle aged man.

Ripley immediately quickened his pace, pulling off his SCBA mask and helmet.

“Chief, this is Firefighter Jamieson’s parents,” a police officer called, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Ma’am, Sir,” Ripley intercepted the couple, “I’m Lucas Ripley, I spoke to you last night.”

“I need to see my son,” she wailed, staring at the gurneys.

“Ma’am, I understand, but we don’t do that here,” Ripley said firmly. “We’ll be transporting Dan to the coroner’s office.”

“Please,” she sobbed.

“Ma’am, the press are still here,” Ripley’s voice was kind but firm.

“We understand,” Jamieson’s father said hoarsely. “We just had to see where…where…”

“It might be cold comfort now,” Ripley said gently. “But he will be remembered as a hero who put others before himself. He was trying to save someone else, to his own cost.”

Andy passed out of earshot, and she and the rest of 19 loaded their victims into the waiting aid cars. The aid car from 7 was taking Jamieson, while Lt O’Neill was being taken by the aid car from 88 where Andy had heard he’d been for many years.

Andy and her team fell to the side, and joined the other crews in forming a guard of honour as the three aid cars slowly rolled out. Many firefighters saluted, others held their hands over their hearts. Andy heard fresh sobs, and looked over to see that Jamieson’s mother had broken down completely. Her husband was staring blankly after the ambulance that carried his son, and so it was left to Ripley to put his hand on her back to steady her.

Sullivan led his crew back toward Ripley for further instructions, gesturing for them to take a water break as they waited for Jamieson’s mother to settle. She did, eventually, and Ripley was able to pass them off to a police officer who promised to take them to the morgue.

“Where do you want us?” Sullivan asked the other man as he turned back towards them. Ripley opened his mouth but was interrupted by a phone ringtone. He sighed, answering the phone and glancing apologetically at Sullivan.

“Ripley,” the Chief’s jaw clenched and he looked distinctly unimpressed at whoever was on the other end of the line. “I know I’m running late, that’s why I called two hours ago to say that I’d be running late. I have to handover, shower, and then I’ll be there. No, Mr Deputy Mayor, you’ll all want me to have showered. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up.

“I’ve only been working an active fire for the better part of fourteen hours. Why would you sit with me in a closed conference room?” he muttered at the silent phone, running his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath, and calm settled over him again. “Anyway. Sullivan, I’m going to hand over to you. I want your crew to assist in cleanup.”

“When was the last time you slept, Rip?” Sullivan asked in concern.

Ripley glanced at his watch. “Twenty nine hours ago,” he said stolidly. “This meeting can’t be missed, and the only other person across it is Graham who’s on leave.”

“So you’re going to this important meeting as good as drunk?” Sullivan pressed, referencing research that showed you were as good as over the legal limit once you’d been awake for seventeen hours.

“I won’t be driving,” Ripley said. “And it’s called coffee. Anyway, the longer you stand arguing this point …”

Sullivan relented. Ripley gave a concise summary of the events of last night; they were up to overhaul.

Miller groaned.

“Sorry, Miller,” Ripley said with a touch of amusement. “Any questions, Sully?”

There were none, so he departed.

* * *

 

They spent most of the day there, only leaving at 1700. Andy was starving, their brief lunch break seemed hours away.

The station was empty when they got back, and they checked the logs to see Montgomery and Hughes had been on back to back calls essentially since just before lunch.

“It’s takeout for dinner,” Andy declared. “Pizza?”

Everyone agreed, and so Andy phoned in their regular order before they all hit the showers.

Andy trooped back up to the kitchen after her shower to find Hughes and Montgomery holding coffees like their lives depended on it, watching the news.

The news was playing a clip of Ripley comforting Jamieson’s mom.

“Hey,” Andy greeted them. Both looked grim as they watched the piece on the downed firefighters. “Looks like you two were busy today.”

“Mostly crap calls,” Vic muttered.

“We ordered pizza,” Andy said. They both brightened.

“Thank god,” Montgomery said. “We were dreading starting dinner but you guys have been on overhaul all freaking day.”

“Terrace row houses, man,” Andy said. “Two flights plus basement. Four houses burned out, with a fifth vented in case.”

“You okay?” Montgomery asked, looking her over kindly. “Recovery’s awful.”

“Yeah it is,” Andy said with feeling. “It was an object lesson for me from Ripley after my incinerator.” She’d never told the team the details of what had happened, so she sketched it out now.

“That’s a hard way to teach a lesson,” Montgomery commented. “But, Andy, safety first.” His eyes were fervent. Vic said nothing.

“Pizza’s here,” Maya interrupted, unnecessarily given she walked in carrying a pile, followed by Miller who’d already opened on and was munching on a slice of pizza with one hand while cradling another five pizza boxes in his other arm.

Andy and Vic quickly grabbed a pile of plates to set on the table, by which point Sullivan and Warren had arrived. Andy ended up sitting next to Vic, who was on her phone, not having touched the pizza.

Andy didn’t exactly mean to read Vic’s phone over her shoulder, but the other woman had deliberately angled it away from Montgomery on her other side.

_Clearly a terrible night/day. Call if you’re awake and want to talk. X_

Vic glanced at Andy as if in silent challenge to say or do something as she set down her phone and reached for a slice of pizza. Andy shrugged apologetically. 

A few minutes later, Vic’s phone started buzzing. She quickly grabbed it, answering with a quiet hello and scraping back from the table so quickly her chair almost fell over.

She was gone for almost twenty minutes, and when she got back, she looked much more settled, less…

Less concerned.

“What was all that about?” Montgomery asked curiously as Vic resumed her seat.

“Was it your aunt?” Andy said quickly, seeing Vic’s expression shift to panic.

She realised she wasn’t quite sure if Vic even had an aunt.

“Yeah,” Vic said, latching on to Andy’s explanation. Andy could feel the weight of Maya’s sharply inclined eyebrow from three seats away. “She’s doing better tonight, actually. Which is good.”

“Has she been sick?” Travis asked in sudden concern. “You didn’t mention anything!”

“Didn’t seem like the day for it,” Vic said, gesturing at the now muted TV which was replaying scenes from the fire. “And I think it was just a minor chest thing from the sounds of it. Going to fly out to visit her this weekend though. She’s in Chicago.”

Travis seemed to accept this and moved on.

Later, Andy and Maya by silent but mutual agreement landed themselves and Vic on KP. As the boys happily walked away, Maya leaned in and murmured, “Chicago?”

Vic looked uncomfortable. “Camping,” she admitted.

“So this is who you mean when you say you're going camping?” Andy couldn’t help but tease.

“No, no, I mean we actually go camping,” Vic corrected quietly. “I think it’s a good weekend for it.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Maya sing-songed. Seeing Vic’s set expression, she relented a little. “But it’s okay with me.”

Vic hesitated, double-checking the room before saying, "you should know that we've agreed we need to tell Sullivan. Now there's too many people who aren't him that know."

Andy couldn't help but be surprised. "You're that serious about this?"

"Yeah. I am. He needs to sleep, but we're aiming to tell Sullivan this week. We don't want this open knowledge, so not a word to anyone else, _please_. Now, can we never talk about it here again?” Vic begged. The other two glanced at each other and nodded.


	7. Flashover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for themes.
> 
> It all comes to a head.
> 
> (I'm trying to use firefighting terminology. A side = front of the fire building, B = left side, C = rear, D = right side)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *angst* *angst* *angst*

_You’re having a panic attack_ , Lucas tells himself.

It doesn’t help. Inside his head the cold clinical voice that had kept him going for the last four hours has fallen silent and in its place is an endless loop of the sound of an explosion. His heart is hammering, and he thinks distantly that prolonged tachycardia could precipitate a heart attack. It feels like he couldn’t breathe, and he tries Vic’s stupid song but the very thought of her makes it all worse.

He drops his head into his hands, gripping his hair with his fingers, knowing but not caring that he must look slightly insane right now to anyone else in the waiting room.

And it was all one hundred percent his fault.

* * *

 

Lucas took a breath and took stock of the situation, mentally reviewing the handover he’d just received from Sullivan.

19 had been first at this scene, a fire in an empty warehouse. The company which had owned it had gone into liquidation, so the building had been cleared of all stock but it had not yet been re-leased. So under normal circumstances, Lucas would have been happy to just lose the building.

Except it was a warehouse, right up against two more warehouses. The other warehouses _were_ filled with goods. The one on B side of the structure on fire was filled with agricultural goods, and so firefighters were working fast to ferry out the fertilisers and fuel that could act as potential explosives. Fortunately, the D-side warehouse was filled with something significantly more innocuous; crockery. Lots and lots of crockery.

It’d burn, but not explode. Much. Not like the fertiliser and diesel in the B-side one anyway.

And then there was an explosion.

* * *

 

The explosion echoes in his mind once more, and Lucas groans, opening his eyes to the hospital floor.

Okay, he is in no fit state to be here. Time to get up, catch a cab home, and process today’s events. He can tell Miller about his Mom's phone call tomorrow.

But his body won’t move; he is frozen. Like the part that was Lucas has frozen inside his mind. When he needed to run the scene, the Chief had taken over.

(He is a little irritated now that the Chief seems to have disappeared, right when control of his body to the extent that he could get out of here would have been helpful).

* * *

 

The explosion echoed through the air. Lucas immediately looked to the B side neighbouring warehouse to find that it was still intact (although the firefighters carrying explosives away from it had significantly increased their speed).

“Where was that from?” he shouted into his radio.

And the radio exploded back.

There was a report from the A entrance that they’d seen the mezzanine floor just collapse inside the building.

There was a report from one of the crews on the C side that the back of the primary building had exploded.

There was a mayday request from Miller.

And then there was the unnecessary report that the building was starting to look unstable. Lucas could have figured that one out from the way in which the corner of the A and B side of the building had suddenly started to sway alarmingly.

He saw the RIT team start to charge in, and cursed Wiseman under his breath. Contrary to what his name suggested, the RIT officer today was an impulsive man at the best of times, and Lucas had never regretted any promotion more than that one.

(Lucas would also have liked it to be on record that he had been the one on the board that had opposed the promotion back when Lucas himself had been Battalion Chief, but been over-ruled by the former Fire Chief).

“Hold the RIT,” he shouted into his radio. “That is an unstable structure with an explosion of an unknown substance inside it. Do not enter that building! Anyone inside the building, evacuate now! Crews on the C-side, I want all your water focused on where the hole of the explosion is, right on top of it. As soon as everyone’s out of the building, switch to foam.”

“They can’t get out,” a firefighter ran at him from the side, yelling. “Hughes is trapped under part of the mezzanine staircase, and Miller’s foot is caught in a hole. They can’t get out! They need help. I’ll go. They’re only just inside the D side.”

Lucas’ heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt like he needed to vomit. He took a deep breath, pushing the part of his mind that had started screaming back into a corner.

“No, Montgomery,” he heard himself say firmly back. “No one enters that building.”

* * *

 

His ears are still ringing, and staring at the ground, Lucas sees a set of firefighter boots start to walk past. He slinks backwards a little in his seat.

He absolutely can not be noticed and recognised in this state, where despite his thoughts racing he can't seem to say anything or do anything.

“Chief?” it’s Montgomery’s voice, and Lucas sees the feet pause, turning towards him.

* * *

 

“But, Chief –” Travis objected. His friends were _right inside_  D side. He’d seen them enter, they couldn’t be far in. Vic hadn’t given up on him, and Travis couldn’t bear the thought of giving up on her. “We can save them with a RIT, hell, I’ll volunteer! They’re right inside – we can get them free and get them out! If we leave them there they’ll die!”

“I’m not risking any more firefighter lives,” the Chief cut him off calmly. “Including yours, Montgomery. I don’t want to tell your boyfriend you died because I let you go into a building that was collapsing after having just exploded.”

His words were harsh, even if his tone is not, and Travis flinched, automatically taken back to the day that Michael died.

He can’t understand how Ripley does it. The night that Ripley had told him Michael was dead, he’d done so in his normal soft voice, so calm and collected, the only sign of emotion was the redness in his eyes. Travis had gone to pieces, and Ripley had pulled him into a hug, saying something in his calm, comforting voice that Travis will never remember.

This situation was the same. The only sign that Ripley was under stress at all was the fact that he was as white as a sheet underneath the soot and sweat on his face. Travis knew better than to accuse him of not caring after how he'd been when Michael died, and with the peer support group. Still, someone who hadn't previously met the Chief could very easily make that mistake right now.

The radio crackled.

“We’re out from under the rubble, managed to pull my foot out and Hughes and I together were able to lift the beam on her,” Miller’s voice came over. “But it’s filled with smoke in here, our visibility is minimal!”

“I can go in –” Travis felt desperate to help; the thought of them dying because they got _lost_ was unbearable.

“Nobody enters, Montgomery,” Ripley repeated calmly. “They’d _just_ entered D side?”

“Yes, that’s the point – they’re right there!” Travis shouted, but Ripley had already turned away and raised his voice to call for a PASS alarm to be activated next to where they entered on D side.

Travis was confused, but Andy’s hand left his arm and he saw her bolt towards that entry.

“All units, we are activating a PASS alarm outside the primary building on D side, so that the firefighters inside can follow it. Hughes, Miller, if you get to an exterior wall, radio us,” the Chief said into his radio, and Travis understood in a flash.

It was a brilliant idea. Over a longer distance, it would cause more harm than good, as the noise of the PASS alarm could distort around fire, but at short distances it should guide them.

Travis took off after Andy; determined to meet them.

It felt like forever, but really, was probably only a few minutes before two limping figures came out of the building.

“My ankle’s gone,” Miller says, hopping on one leg with his arm around Hughes’ shoulder. Her arm, in turn, was around his waist, allowing him to support his weight on her. “Vic was under a beam from a staircase, I think, we were able to push it off her but it was right across her abdomen and she’s saying it’s sore there.”

Vic looked like shit, though, and had started to sway concerningly.

“My abdomen _really_ hurts,” she said, and Travis hurried forward to take her from Miller, as Andy replaced her under Miller’s arm.

Travis walked a couple of steps, before feeling Vic sag.

“Help, I need some more help,” he shouted, and in a flash, Bishop appeared in front of them.

“We need to lift her,” Travis ordered, moving behind Vic. He quickly pulled off her SCBA gear and unbuckled her tank. Warren picked up the excess equipment and moved it away from the scene. Travis picked Vic up under her shoulders as Bishop picked up her legs, ignoring her faint protests.

They lifted her onto a nearby gurney, and Travis pushed it as fast as he could towards the nearest aid car.

* * *

 

It _is_ Ripley. Travis had nearly walked past him.

Ripley’s still wearing his turnout jacket, and he looks exhausted, head in his hands.

Travis stops, taking a deep breath, before sitting next to him.

“Chief?” he checks. He feels the urge to apologise for having yelled at him hours earlier.

“Montgomery,” Ripley croaks in greeting, head still in his hands. He’s clearly almost lost his voice.

Travis frowns, and pushes a water bottle under his nose. “Drink,” he says. “What are you doing out here?”

He tries to make it a conversational question, but Travis knows exactly what Ripley’s doing here.

When Travis had woken up after his surgery, the second time, it had been to Ripley’s low voice conversing with Dr Bailey. And from talking at the peer support group, Travis knows that every injured firefighter receives one visit the night of their injury, and a second one right before they are discharged from the Chief. (Some receive more, if they're in hospital for longer).

He never stays long, just checks in and says hi. He always brings a block of chocolate, once you can eat.

Travis knows that Ripley hasn’t been in to see either Vic or Dean, because he’s been in Vic’s room the whole time (Dean had bullied Warren into rolling him over to her room) until this one bathroom break.

Ripley takes the bottle of water from Travis, and takes a sip. And then another. And then he drinks half the bottle.

“You know you don’t know how thirsty you are until you drink, sometimes,” Ripley says. He sounds calm. Travis would have thought he was imagining the faint edge of hysteria to his tone, but...

Ripley interrupts his train of thought. "Thanks, Travis."

* * *

 

“Travis,” Vic’s face was covered in rolling beads of sweat. The cuff deflated, and Travis looked at the numbers, feeling pale and sick himself. 80/40.

Too low. He’d examined her abdomen, and it was tender and rigid, with a large bruise coming up already across the upper part of her abdomen. Her lungs sounded fine, thank goodness, but Travis was worried about her liver and her spleen.

He squeezed the hand pump on the IV line.

“Travis,” Vic hissed again, grabbing his arm. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Nope,” Travis said. “You don’t. We’re not doing death bed confessions here, Vic. There’s no need.”

“My BP’s low, and my abdomen is rigid,” Vic glanced again at the number. “They will take me to theatre. IF something happens –”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Travis tried to speak over her but she squeezed his arm.

“Please, tell Lucas it wasn’t his fault, tell him that he did the right thing,” Vic looked beseechingly at him.

“Lucas?” Travis repeated slowly, mind buzzing. He didn’t know any Lucases…nor have any idea what she was talking about.

 _Confusion is common in hypovolaemic shock_ , he reminded himself. _The brain doesn’t receive enough blood._

“Ripley,” she said, and Travis’ eyes flew to hers. She was deadly serious. “And tell him…tell him that I love him.”

“What the fu-”

* * *

 

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Travis says, watching the Chief drain the rest of the bottle of water. “I can get you another one.”

“No it’s okay,” Ripley tries to flash him one of his quick smiles, but can’t seem to quite do it.

“What are you doing out here?” Travis asks gently.

“Oh, you know,” Ripley says, too casually. “I usually try to drop in on … on anyone who gets injured. But it looks like there’s a lot of visitors already for them so…”

“Right,” Travis doesn’t quite know how to let on that he knows. That his best friend has been sleeping with the Chief for months now, and that she’s in love with him.

Travis suspects that the Fire Chief is in love with her as well. There’s a wildness to his eyes, his hands are shaking, and he can’t quite meet Travis’ eye.

“When we were in the ambulance her blood pressure was low,” Travis says. His suspicion is confirmed when Ripley’s jaw locks and he drops his head again, looking sick. “It responded to just a litre of fluid, but obviously she was pretty scared. She asked me to tell you – if something went wrong – that you made the right call.”

Ripley looks like Travis has punched him in the gut.

“I fucked up,” Ripley’s voice is harsh. “I should’ve never had firefighters in a building with explosive material –”

“We didn’t know,” Travis interrupts now. “We swept that building. We didn’t spot whatever it was that went off. The fire was well controlled by that point, we needed entry teams to make sure the blaze was controlled to protect the other buildings.”

“I should’ve used the drone to scout –” his voice is shaking and Travis suddenly recognises what this is.

Lucas Ripley is having a panic attack. A very quiet, very well controlled one.

“You didn’t need to – there was no reason to recheck a physical sweep,” Travis says gently, before urging, “ _breathe_.”

The Chief takes a shuddering breath.

“They nearly died, and I didn’t send in a RIT. They got themselves out.”

Travis almost doesn’t hear him say it, it’s so close to inaudible.

“The PASS alarm idea was genius,” Travis says gently. “That helped them get out.” Travis takes a breath himself.

“You were right,” Travis says, and Ripley’s gaze snaps to his own. “You made the right call on the RIT – the objective call. I was too worried about my friends to see that, and I didn’t care about the danger to me. I'm sorry for making it harder.”

“I’d have run in a thousand times,” Ripley is clearly close to tears now, and he looks away. “But as Chief I _can’t_.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Travis watches as Ripley takes one, two, three deep breaths, each less shaky than the last.

“I think you need to talk to her,” he decides to risk saying.

“Oh god,” Ripley lowers his face into his hands. “We’re just the worst kept secret aren’t we?”

“I had no idea until she told me in the aid car here,” Travis assures him, before a nasty thought strikes him, and he says sharply and protectively, “if you’re worried about your reputation-”

“What?” Ripley rubs his face, looking up in confusion before following Travis’ thought process. “No no, that’s not…I … I don’t care who knows. I care if it hurts her.”

“She’s fine,” Travis says, realising that he hasn’t actually said that yet. “She’s _fine_. A little high on the pain meds they’ve given her, but she’s smiling and joking with the others.”

“Sullivan messaged me,” Ripley says. “A splenic laceration. They’re managing conservatively because the BP improved with just a litre.”

“Does Sullivan know?” Travis asks, curious as to who else is part of the worst kept secret conspiracy. So he knows what he can say around whom.

“Frankel, Sullivan, Gibson, Herrera, Bishop,” Ripley lists. “Worst kept secret.”

“Given Vic’s complete inability to keep a secret historically, that’s pretty good,” Travis says. Ripley tries to laugh, but it comes out as a half sob.

“I’m such an idiot for letting myself be in this situation,” he says quietly, shaking his head.

“Come on,” Travis says, taking the other man’s arm. It’s a liberty he would never take under normal circumstances, but as Vic’s honorary big brother, he figures he can take a little license with protocol tonight. He pulls him up. “You can’t sit out here all night.”

He basically pushes Ripley to the door. They enter the room, which falls silent as the two men enter, laughter dying away.

“Miller,” Ripley says as he enters. “You should know I got a phone call from your Mom.”

 _Right. Not exactly I would have thought Ripley would start_ , Travis thinks.

Travis watches as Herrera and Bishop exchange an exasperated look and Sullivan rolls his eyes. Vic stays silent, but her eyes are glued to Ripley.

Miller notices none of this byplay. Neither does Warren, for that matter.

“My mom called you?” he asks, confused.

“Yup,” Ripley says. “She saw the fire on the news, and saw you being helped into an aid car. She couldn’t get through on your mobile, panicked, and rang the SFD saying that. She got put through to me as scene commander. I said that you had an ankle injury, and that I’d pass on her message which is that she loves you and wants you to call her.”

“Did she say anything about my Dad?” Miller asks, oblivious to the growing tension in the room as Vic keeps staring at Ripley and he avoids glancing anywhere close to her direction.

Okay, they will clearly just have to come up with a way of clearing the room, Travis decides. Warren and Miller are easy to get out. Weirdly, it’ll be the ones in the know who he’ll need to signal.

Then again, maybe not, as Andy and Maya share another significant look, and Sullivan shifts uncomfortably. Travis figures if the two who don’t know leave, the rest of them can just leave without an excuse.

And lean against the door so that Ripley can’t bolt like he very much looks like doing.

“No, she didn’t mention your Dad, sorry,” Ripley answers. “But I’m glad to see you looking well, even if you’re less … independently mobile.”

“You should call your Mom, Dean,” Travis interjects forcefully. “Here, borrow my phone. And Warren, I heard one of the nurses telling Dr Bailey that you’d moved Miller in here…”

“Oh shit,” Ben immediately grabs the handles on the wheelchair. Miller barely has time to get his casted leg off the end of Vic’s bed before Warren’s starting to push him back to his room.

 Travis grabs Ripley, and pulls him back against the wall so that Warren and Miller can scrape through.

“Well, I think the rest of us really need a coffee,” Travis says, clapping his hands as soon as Warren and Miller have left. Travis can’t hide the relief on his face as Sullivan, Bishop and Herrera all immediately race for the door, Andy snapping the blinds shut as she exits without pretending she's not doing it deliberately. “Thanks for staying with her while we go for that, Chief.”

Travis steps out, pulling the door closed behind him, and leaning on it with a sigh.

“Coffee? At this time of the night?” Sullivan arcs an eyebrow.

“It was the best I could come up with,” Travis throws his hands up.

“How long have you known?” Andy asks suspiciously.

“Known what?” Travis answers innocently. Maya’s eyes narrow, and Sullivan suddenly looks wary.

“Do you know what I think you know?” Andy says after a pause. “Because I know we three know.”

“I think I know what you think I know,” Travis can’t help but laugh now. “We are officially members of the Worst Kept Secret Club. Vic asked me to pass on a message when we were in the aid car. Her BP was 80/40 at the time, so I think she thought she was going to die.”

“He looks like he’s having a heart attack,” Maya comments.

“Don’t joke,” Sullivan says grimly. “His dad actually did have a heart attack around Rip’s age. I think he was a bit older though.”

“Are we waiting, or are we going?” Herrera asks. Travis hesitates to say anything, but he can’t allow anything to hurt Vic tonight. And right now, Chief Ripley could not be more unpredictable.

“Well, I think he’s having a full blown panic attack,” he says, more to Sullivan than anyone else.

Sullivan’s eyebrows raise. “I’ve never seen him have one,” he says slowly.

“I don’t know if he’s ever had one before,” Travis says honestly. Ripley’s never mentioned it at the peer group meetings if he has. “But that’s what it looked like.”

“He seemed fine on the scene,” Bishop says. She’d stayed at the scene the longest, only leaving an hour or two prior. “He ran the whole thing to overhaul, then handed over to Frankel.”

“Shock might be catching up,” Sullivan says. It’s his turn to hesitate, before saying quietly, “I don’t know that many people could have done what he just did today.”

Travis agrees. Hell, he's not in love with Vic and he couldn't have not ordered a RIT, even knowing that the building had just exploded and was collapsing. Yet Ripley had somehow kept his head at the scene, and done the right thing, minimising risk to firefighter life.

* * *

 

He’s barely keeping it together, Vic sees from the instant he walks into the room. He refuses to look anywhere near her, and Vic can’t think of a way to get rid of everyone.

Miller and Warren seem oblivious, but thankfully Travis gets them out.

She realises, somewhat uncomfortably, that everyone else in the room knows that she’s sleeping with Lucas, and they all make an undignified beeline for the door.

“Subtle,” she comments lightly as Travis closes the door behind himself.

Lucas still can’t look at her. Instead, he’s standing at the angle he did when he addressed Miller, making a detailed study of the floor under the curtains.

“You look like shit,” is what comes out next, and at that he looks at her.

(Not in the eye, mind you, but in her general direction at least).

“You look…alive,” his voice cracks.

There’s a long silence, and Vic doesn’t know what to say. He’s holding himself so tightly and so still.

“I should…I’m sorry. I didn’t get you out. I should go,” the words come out in a jumble, and it takes her a second to process.

At which point he’s at the door, hand on the handle.

“Lucas,” she snaps. “Look at me.”

He freezes, pauses, and finally looks at her.

“I’m fine,” she says, softening her tone. “You did the right thing. Come here.”

The next thing she knows, he’s sitting on her bed, face in her neck, arms around her. He’s still wearing his turnout jacket and he smells of ash and smoke. He takes a deep shuddering breath, and starts to cry.

“I killed you,” he sobs, and she feels his tears running down her neck, his shoulders shaking.

“I’m right here, baby,” she says softly, stroking his hair. “I’m fine. It’s just a flesh wound.”

He laughs somewhat hysterically at the Monty Python reference. (They’d watched the movie last night, although it feels like that was a million years ago that he had sat half-working on some new protocol while she rested her head on his shoulder).

“You did the right thing,” she repeats, holding him as tightly as she can. Vic kind of hopes someone’s guarding outside, because there’s no way this could be explained away. She’s on strict bed rest because of her laceration and the risk of rebleeding. So she’s basically lying flat (okay, at 20 degrees). And he’s effectively lying on top of her to hug her.

She also doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. Because he wouldn’t want anyone to see him like this.

“If you hadn’t freed yourselves…”

“If you’d sent a RIT team in against all sense and protocol they could’ve died, and I still could’ve died, and then you’d blame yourself for them,” she says, matter-of-factly. “But we did free ourselves. The PASS alarm idea worked – and that saved our lives because we had no idea which way was up and which way was-”

“I’m in love with you,” he interrupts, speaking into her neck. “I love you. If you’d have died…I … I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

She pushes him back a bit so that she can hold his face and see it. He rests his forehead against hers. He’s still crying, just not sobbing like he had been, and tears drip onto her face.

“Good, cos I’m pretty loveable,” Vic doesn’t quite know when she started crying too. “And I’m in love with you.”

“You are,” he says, half a question, half a statement, closing his eyes. Vic is the one who tilts her head up, capturing his lips.

He tastes like smoke and ash and salt from the tears. It’s wet and messy and not particularly pleasant in a way – the smoke and ash and salt mix badly with the antiseptic dryness of her mouth, but Vic doesn’t want to do anything else right now except kiss him. Thoroughly.

It’s the beeping of her heart monitor that has them breaking the kiss.

The heart monitor that is audible outside her door.

There’s a tentative knock on the door. Lucas sits back up and turns his face to the curtains, trying to wipe away his tears. He’s still kind of crying though, so he isn’t very successful. Vic wipes her face, hoping she’s gotten most of the soot away as the door creaks open.

Travis’ head slowly peers in, his grimace of discomfort turning to relief as he sees them.

“All fine, Dr Bailey,” he calls, closing the door again as quickly as he can.

Vic and Lucas glance at each other, and he bursts into more-than-slightly hysterical laughter. Vic has to concentrate on not joining him – laughing _hurts_.

“We are the worst kept secret in your station,” he says, wiping away tears.

“I suspect we might be on our way to being the worst kept secret at SFD,” she corrects dryly, rubbing his back.

“Is that okay?” he asks, and she can see that he’s regaining his equilibrium. His voice isn't shaking anymore, and he's holding himself less tightly.

“I don’t care,” Vic says honestly. “You’re alive, I’m alive…”

“I love you, and you think I’m pretty loveable too…” he finishes with a dopey grin.

“C’mere,” she says, and he grins wider as he ducks in again for a kiss. She immediately tries to slip her tongue into his mouth again but he pulls away.

“I am not having half the hospital join the WKSC,” he says with a pointed glance at the monitor. At her confused look, he elaborates, “Worst Kept Secret Club.”

She giggles, settling for stroking his face. He looks like such a mess. She says as much, and he loses it, laughing hysterically and clutching his chest. He’s hysterical, and she’s high, and somehow that’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened.

So, naturally, she joins him in hysterics.

And, of course, the heart rate monitor goes nuts, as she alternates between hysterics and pain, and he alternates between concern and hysterics. Travis doesn’t bother to knock this time.

“Um –“ he walks in, and looks confused, clearly not expecting to find them like this. They both glance at each other, and Lucas laughs so hard he almost falls off the bed. “What?”

“Sorry,” Vic gasps. “It’s just so funny.”

“ _What_?!” Travis’ confusion worsens, and as Sullivan, Maya, and Andy join him at the door with similar expressions, Lucas actually does fall off the bed.

“Okay, you two are hysterical,” Sullivan says, rolling his eyes and helping Lucas off the floor. “Come on, man. I’m taking you to wash your face, then we are going to get food – Herrera, get orders from these two and send them to me and we’ll bring you back some – and we’ll be back when you’ve both calmed down.” 

“God’s sake, Vic, you know you aren’t supposed to laugh,” Travis scolds, which only inexplicably makes them both worse as Sullivan herds Lucas outside.

“Or eat,” Andy points out.

Vic immediately sobers at that thought, gladly taking the pain button from Maya who picked it up from where she’d dropped it in the bed. She presses the button a couple of times and feels a woozy sensation flood back over her as the pain recedes.

Travis, meanwhile hands her a wet washer.

“He’s a mess, and now you’ve got ash and soot everywhere,” he says, awkwardly gesturing at her face. “Warren and Miller will be back, I suspect, and if you don’t want them –”

“To join the WKSC,” Vic starts giggling again. Maya and Andy look at her with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Worst Kept Secret Club?” Travis asks resignedly. Vic nods. “Well, if you don’t want them to know, clean your damn face.”

“Okay,” Vic rubs the washer over her face, wincing a little at how much soot has come off onto it.

“And, your, um, neck,” Maya stares determinedly at the floor.

Vic feels suddenly embarrassed, and does so.

“Thanks, guys,” she says suddenly, fervently. “Thanks for looking after us.”

Travis’ expression softens, and he grasps her hand tightly. Andy does the same on the other side, while Maya affectionately grips her shoulder.

“We’re looking after _you_ ,” Maya says. At a glance from Travis, she amends her statement. “Well, Herrera and I are. I still think this is a terrible idea.”

“I’ll kick his ass if you ever want me to,” Travis says. “But he’s a good man. I don’t think – whatever happens with you two – I don’t think I’ll have to.”


	8. External Review Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.

Robert checked his watch, and leaned on the gas pedal slightly.

He had hit snooze one too many times. In his defence, this was a ridiculously early time to meet. If it had been anyone but Rip – who, right now, had to be running on practically no sleep – then Robert would’ve told them to Foxtrot Oscar.

But it _was_ Rip who had asked to meet him ninety minutes before the shift started. And given Rip must’ve gotten home late after the budget meetings yesterday, he reckoned that the Chief couldn’t have had more than about seven hours of sleep in the course of about forty-eight hours.

So Robert really couldn’t complain.

It wasn’t really a surprise to find Rip beat him there; the man was nothing if not punctual. Robert was surprised to see Hughes had come into work early – ninety minutes early – which was unlike her. She was already in uniform, and was chatting quietly to Rip as the two of them loitered at the front desk, nursing cups of coffee.

“Sorry I’m late, Rip,” Robert said. “Come on in. Hughes, you’re early?”

“Yes,” Hughes replied, glancing at Rip, who took a deep breath.

“This concerns her,” Rip said, gesturing to Robert’s office.

Robert frowned as he opened the office door. He hadn’t been made aware of any incidents from or concerning Hughes. He thought back over the last couple of days. Maybe it was related to the death of her Academy friend, Jamieson? He sat down in his chair.

Alarm set in when Ripley put a mug of coffee in front of him.

“I’m going to need coffee for this conversation?” he asked suspiciously, taking a sip. It was freshly made and delicious, and he could feel it warming him from the inside out.

“I assumed you haven’t changed your coffee preferences in the last fifteen years,” Ripley said wryly.

“No,” Robert replied, eyeing the two of them. Neither seemed inclined to sit; Hughes hovering against the whiteboard near the door – which Robert noticed had been shut – and Rip had started to absently pace the couple of steps in front of his desk. “All right, what is this about?”

“Don’t freak out, please, Sully,” Rip said.

“Well, that’s a great way to start,” Robert quipped, taking another sip.

“We’re seeing each other,” Lucas said quickly, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

Robert choked, and hot coffee burned its way up his nose.

“What?!” he spluttered. “Are you serious?!” Seeing the expression on Rip’s face, and the wince on Hughes’, he shook his head and held up a hand. “No don’t answer that. You clearly are.” He set his coffee mug down and sighed. “God, Luke, please tell me this didn’t start while you were acting captain here?”

“No!” Ripley said firmly, hesitating a little before continuing, “no. This started a few months ago.”

They may not have spoken much in the intervening fifteen years, but Robert could still tell when Ripley was evading a question. He opened his mouth to push the point before stopping.

Hughes had yet to say a word.

“Get out,” he ordered Ripley. Ripley raised an eyebrow, but looked unsurprised.

“Don’t get pissed at her,” he warned. “You’re pissed at me.”

“I’ll be pissed with whomever I choose,” Robert shot back. “At the moment, it’s both of you for being damn idiots. Now, out.”

Ripley turned, exchanging a glance with Hughes as he walked past her. She smiled – reassuringly – at him.

“Sit down, Hughes,” Robert said gruffly, taking a deep breath. “Is this consensual?”

“Yes,” the reply was immediate, and Robert felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He hadn’t thought that Lucas would think it was anything else. But he had worried a little if it had been perceived that way by the much younger, very junior firefighter in front of him.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Since Miller’s birthday,” Hughes looked uncomfortable, a faint red tinge creeping across her cheeks.

It felt like he’d been gut-punched, and he took a deep breath.

“Miller’s birthday,” he knew his voice sounded strangled, and she nodded, looking confused. “What has Rip told you about our friendship?”

“That you were very close out of the Academy,” Hughes said slowly, clearly aware she was missing something. “And were best friends until you had a fight about something fifteen years ago. You weren’t close for years, but he said the two of you cleared the air recently?”

“He didn’t tell you what the fight was about?” Robert asked, leaning back. Shock started to make way for anger, and an odd and unjustified sense of betrayal. Hughes shook her head.

There was no reason Rip couldn’t start hooking up with a good looking girl (apart from the part where she was a junior firefighter 20 years younger than him), but for him to start on the anniversary of Clare’s death felt … well, okay, so it turned out he was pissed at Luke.

“Miller’s birthday…I was a bit out of sorts,” Robert felt he needed to explain. “My wife died on that day, fifteen years ago.” Her face fell. He continued quickly, not wanting to hear the usual platitudes. “It was a car accident that we were called to, Rip pulled me off the case, and wouldn’t let me treat her. We argued about amiodarone. She was allergic to iodine, so I asked him to not give it, but he gave it because it was protocol. She died, without him ever getting ROSC. I – we argued. Our friendship will never be the same.”

He looked up to see Hughes nod slowly.

“That makes sense,” she said, hurrying to add, “I mean, that it was something that terrible. Not that that kind of thing happening ever makes sense. But the way he talks about you guys being friends…it must have been something awful. I’m so sorry, Captain.”

Robert found he was already starting to regret telling her this.

“This is private,” he said abruptly.

“I understand,” Hughes said emphatically. “As it turns out, there are some secrets I can keep,” she glanced over her shoulder to where she can see Rip leaning against the glass window, his back to them.

“So you understand when I say our friendship is long, and complicated?” Robert asked. She nodded. “My role as your Captain is to protect you. As his friend, I want to protect him too. I’m assuming you have signed a waiver?”

“Waiver?” Hughes sounded confused, and Robert cursed Rip under his breath before he stood and went to the filing cabinet. It took him a minute, but finally he found the form, pushing over to Hughes as he resumed his seat.

She took a moment to read it.

“If you don’t feel comfortable signing it, I’ll make sure he comes nowhere near you again,” Robert said quietly.

“I don’t have a pen,” is all she said in reply. Robert handed her a pen, and she signed it unwaveringly, sliding both back towards Robert. He signed as the witness.

“It’s a fairly standard waiver,” Robert said, unnecessarily given she’s already signed it. “I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, but neither do I want him to be taken advantage of. If you say stop and he doesn’t, you come to me. I’m not going to tolerate this … thing …”

“Relationship,” Hughes cut in firmly. She blushed a bit as Robert looked at her steadily. “It’s…not entirely casual anymore. Hasn’t been for a while. I think.”

“Okay,” Robert said slowly. “I don’t want this _relationship_ destroying anyone’s careers.”

“Neither do we,” Hughes said Despite himself, Robert was impressed at how she held her ground.

“Get him back in,” Robert sighed.

“Captain,” she said. “Thanks.”

He nodded, and watched as she went to the door. He could see them smile at each other in the door way, Hughes gently touching Ripley’s arm as he entered.

“What prompted this?” Robert can’t help but ask.

“Maya and Andy came around to mine unexpectedly last night,” Hughes said, closing the door. “Lucas was over for dinner.” They both looked a little sheepish, and then she rounded on Ripley. “And you didn’t tell me there was a relationship waiver form because…?”

Ripley looked at Robert. “So, you made her sign one of those?”

“Don’t avoid the question,” Hughes interrupted calmly. “You didn’t tell me there was a form because…?”

Rip might not be good with women, but he clearly recognised the dangerous tone in Hughes’ voice.

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” he said.

“You didn’t think it was necessary to protect your career?” Hughes asked sharply. Robert watched in fascination. “Or you didn’t think it was necessary to leave a paper trail?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary because I trust you,” Ripley said simply.

“Well, that’s sweet but dumb,” she said bluntly. “You’ve spent how many years, and you’re the youngest fire chief ever, and you’re going to trust that –”

“That waiver’s not worth the piece of paper it’s printed on if you ever wanted to go to the papers and say I forced you,” Ripley’s words were harsh, but his tone was calm and matter of fact. “It’s been signed by my best friend.”

“For the man who always harps on protection and protocol you’re not recognising that this is your only shield right now,” Robert interrupted briefly. “But the two of you can keep bickering later. Rip, you're going to sign it too, now, to say that this is a consensual social agreement that can end at any time without any professional consequences." Ripley did so without hesitation. "So Bishop and Herrera know; anyone else?”

“Gibson,” Hughes replied. She shrugged, seeing the confused look directed at her. “It was a caller ID issue.”

“It’s a miracle that you two aren’t common knowledge,” Robert shook his head. “B shift are here watching you two have a private meeting in my office in daylight hours. Let me guess, you arrived together? Bishop and Herrera just drop by your house and you don’t check the door before you open it? Gibson works it out by _caller ID_?”

“He’s calling us stupid, isn’t he?” Hughes muttered.

“Yup,” Rip replied.

“So, Hughes, unless you have anything else you want to say, get out before Warren gets here to start breakfast,” Robert ordered.

“Go, I’m sure,” Ripley said to her, obviously continuing an earlier conversation. She looked relieved, shrugged, and smiled affectionately at Ripley before leaving.

Robert stared at Lucas for a long time. Lucas looked uncomfortable, fidgeting under the scrutiny of his old friend.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Robert sighed. He looked at the waiver on his desk. “You know I have to file it…”

“My next meeting is with Frankel,” Ripley said. “I thought you would do this.”

“I’m trying to protect you, man,” Robert said. He sighed. “Be careful, Luke. I don’t want this to blow up in your face.”

“I know it’s a bad idea on paper, and it probably is anyway,” Ripley said. “But … I really like her. And she seems to like me.”

His tone held a hint of wonder at that fact and Robert shook his head. “Go see Frankel. Good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” Ripley said wryly.

* * *

 

“Got a minute?” Deb heard at her door after a knock. She looked up to see Chief Ripley there.

“Sure,” she said, nodding him in. She clicked off on the request she’d just authorised. “What can I do for you, Chief?”

He arced an eyebrow, looking somewhat uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “You haven’t got to Sullivan’s email?”

“No…” Deb flicked her eyes back to her computer. It was fourth on the list.

“I’ll wait,” he said, settling on the arm of the office chair in front of her desk which was stacked high with binders.

She opened up the email and read the attachment. She blinked. And read it again.

“Seriously, Rip?” she sighed, forgetting protocol for a moment.

“Look, it’s not what it –” he began defensively, but she cut him off.

“Let me tell you what it looks like. It looks like you, the forty-four year old Chief, have started up a relationship with a much younger, female, junior firefighter. In the 'hashtag me too' year. What the hell are you thinking?”

“You know me better than that,” Rip said sharply.

“I’m not suggesting you’ve coerced the girl,” Deb said in exasperation. “I’m saying this looks like a midlife crisis. In an era where even a _hint_ of impropriety -”

“And I say again, I’d hope you know me better than that,” he said. “I _like_ this woman. She’s … I know all the reasons why this is a terrible situation and a bad idea but …”

He faltered, looking embarrassed.

“But?” Deb prodded.

“I haven’t been this happy for a long time,” he said in a rush, red tingeing his cheeks.

Deb sighed.

“Please tell me this didn’t start while you were freelancing as Captain there?”

“No. It started a couple of months ago,” he said. “We went to Sullivan this morning because, well, it’s not exactly casual, and a few of her colleagues now know. We’re not trying to be secretive, we’re trying to be discreet.”

“A fine line,” she snorted. “Who else is involved in this conspiracy?”

“Gibson, Herrera, Bishop,” he replied.

“And now Sullivan. I notice it was him who signed it with Hughes. He is your friend.”

“I didn’t ask either of them to sign that waiver,” Ripley said quietly. “I wouldn’t have asked for it. I trust her.”

“At least one of you has some sense in getting her to sign this!” Deb exclaimed. She matched the obstinate scowl on his face with one of her own. “I supported you for Chief, Rip. You’re a damn good one. I don’t want to have to train some new person because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

His jaw worked. “It’s not like that,” he growled. “And you’ve known me for over ten years. Have I _ever_ seemed like that guy to you?”

“No,” she conceded after a minute.

“Then why assume I’m that guy now?” his gaze was steady, and for the first time Deb felt a little uncomfortable

“Okay, maybe I was a bit too strong there,” she conceded. “I maintain this is a terrible idea.”

“You and Bishop both,” he said wryly. The tension lifted a little.

“I guess it was bound to happen sometime,” she said resignedly. “The number of women firefighters who throw themselves at you.”

“You’re just jealous they’re not throwing themselves at you,” Ripley teased. Deb rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m not signing this off until I talk to her,” she warned. "Fortunately Sullivan's six month peer review is due next week. I'll head there after lunch." He nodded, and stood.

“Ask her whatever you want. Just… be civil,” he said. “There’s no form for me to recuse myself from anything to do with her professionally,” he said. “But consider this me recusing myself permanently. It’s up to Sullivan as her Captain, and you as Battalion Chief to decide on any promotions or disciplinary actions. I won’t get involved – and if I try to, you can kick my ass.”

“Trust me, I will.”

* * *

 

“You look about as happy as I feel,” observed Sullivan as Deb stepped into his office.

“Did you really only find out today?” Deb asked, not bothering with preliminaries. He nodded. “Do you have any specific concerns?”

“I just don’t want this to affect their careers,” Sullivan replied. “Rip’s worked his ass off to get to where he is.”

“Yes, the youngest Fire Chief, being brought down by this kind of scandal would be a shame,” Deb agreed. “What do you think of the girl?”

“Personally or professionally?”

“Either.”

“Professionally, she’s a good junior firefighter. Needs to learn when to hold her tongue. Still learning, but definitely above average for where she is at. Personally, I don’t know her too well. She’s a spitfire, though, and she’s his type from what I can see,” Sullivan said.

“It’s conveniently time for your peer review – it’s due in ten days, but I will do it now,” Deb said. “I want to talk to her about this waiver. I don’t like the idea of her being asked to sign it by his best friend.”

“I’m her Captain, who else is more appropriate to ask her to sign it?” Sullivan pointed out. “And before you ask, Ripley wasn’t in the room when she signed it.”

“I figured as much. He’s not best impressed it's there at all, which is stupid,” Deb sighed.

“I know. Look, don’t get me wrong, I hope this doesn’t blow up in their faces,” Sullivan muttered.

“It’s going to,” Deb said in resignation. “We just need to limit the impact to his career – you _know_ who would become Chief if Rip had to step down.”

“Surely he’s not that much of a shoe-in,” Sullivan groaned. “How about you?”

“I’ve pissed too many people off,” she replied. “The first female Fire Chief will be someone like Herrera or Bishop – someone who didn’t have to push their way around to be noticed like I had to.”

Sullivan wisely said nothing.

"We're going to do your peer review a little early. Send in Warren first.”

* * *

“This came across my inbox today,” Deb didn’t bother with preliminaries as Hughes sat down. There was no doubt; Hughes was an attractive girl. Deb slid the waiver across to Hughes, who visibly flushed on seeing it. “Chief Ripley stopped by my office as well.”

Despite the blush in her cheeks, Hughes raised her chin and met Deb’s eyes defiantly. 

“Well?” Deb demanded.

“Well what?” Hughes asked. She hadn’t quite mastered Rip’s mild tone, but Deb figured that’s what she was aiming for.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That my personal life is not any of your business,” Deb had to admire the gumption with which the girl said it. If not the factual accuracy.

“It is absolutely my business,” she refuted, taking the waiver back. “Now you signed this at the request of and in the presence of the Chief’s best friend. So, let’s get question one out of the way, is this consensual?”

“Yes.” The answer was firm, and despite herself, Deb breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did this start while he was acting Captain here?”

Hughes looked taken aback.

“No,” she said, sharply. “I don’t see how this is relevant. I’ve said it is a consensual relationship. I know that Lucas will excuse himself from any disciplinary action or promotions involving me. That’s all that is relevant to the department.”

“That would be sweet if it weren’t laughably naïve,” Deb retorted. “He was promoted about the same time as you started to work as a rookie. He’s relatively new to the job, and as the youngest Fire Chief SFD has had he has had a lot to prove. He’s a good Chief.”

Deb paused. “He saved my life once. I count him a friend. And I will not see him taken down by something as tawdry as this.”

“Tawdry – “ Hughes visibly had to bite back her anger. “Do you trust his judgement? Do you?”

Deb knew where she was going.

“If you trust his judgement, then you should trust that I’m _never_ going to do that to him. _I_ like him. _I_ think he’s good at his job. I don’t know how our relationship will evolve, but you don’t have to worry about his career.”

“And what about your career?” Deb asks, keeping herself from reacting in any way to that impassioned little speech.

“I know what people will say. I mean, you literally just said some of those things. I’m pretty happy being a firefighter. And I think those assumptions say more about the person making them than they do about me,” Victoria said firmly.

“Very well,” Deb uncapped her pen, and scribbled on the bottom of the waiver to say that she’d rediscussed it and confirmed it. She saw Hughes breathe a short sigh of relief. “Onto your peer review for Captain Sullivan…”

 

* * *

 

To: Lucas.Ripley@SeattleFire.gov

From: Deborah.Frankel@SeattleFire.gov

Subject: Captain Sullivan Peer Review (S19)

 

Chief,

Please find attached the relevant peer review. Also attached for your records is an approved consensual relationship agreement, as well as a copy of the sexual harassment policy of the SFD.

Please contact me if you have any queries.

Frankel

 

Battalion Chief D Frankel

Seattle Fire Department

 

P.S. I get it.


	9. A Festive Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.  
> This is tooth-rottingly saccharine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone.

The room had settled into a relaxed buzz of activity. Warren wasn’t quite sure whose idea it had been for them to make a Christmas Eve dinner (from scratch) together instead of making dishes at home and bringing them in like they did at Grey Sloan.

While sweet, it wasn’t the most practical of thoughts – there’d been at least a couple of people in the kitchen almost all day, while groups rotated in and out on calls. They’d had a quiet patch, and Warren hoped it would last long enough for them to cook the turkey and vegetables. Unfortunately, there was no Grant around as his restaurant was booked out for the night – so they didn’t have the professional chef on hand they’d had for Thanksgiving this year and last.

Luckily Bishop wasn’t working at 23 today. She had come in to have dinner with them and could mind the food if they got called out.

Right now, it looked like a warzone, with ingredients everywhere. Miller and Gibson’s meagre culinary skills had long since relegated them to KP, which they’d taken with reasonable grace. They were sitting at the far end of the kitchen table, playing a half-hearted game of cards with Sullivan.

Warren was just glad Hughes had somehow convinced Herrera and Montgomery – who’d gone Christmas mad – that they didn’t need to bake a desert _from scratch_.

At work, anyway. He gathered that Herrera, Montgomery and Hughes had all gathered together the previous night and baked an apple pie, a pumpkin pie, and gingerbread. (Bishop had been working, much to her apparent dismay).

“Chief!” Montgomery suddenly said loudly, looking towards the entranceway. “Finally!”

“Happy Christmas to you too, Montgomery,” an amused sounding Ripley walked in, carefully balancing three large Tupperware containers. “Sorry, the roads are awful.” As always, the Chief’s eyes sought out Hughes, and they grinned briefly at each other. Montgomery reached Ripley, and helped him set the containers on the bench carefully. Montgomery and Herrera immediately opened one, inspecting the food inside.

“Hopefully everyone stays off them,” Sullivan said grimly. “God, that’s an awful sweater, Rip.”

Ripley chuckled, holding his arms out and bowing slightly. It _was_ awful; lurid green with a firefighter themed pattern with the collar of his white uniform shirt visible underneath. “Merry Christmas to you too, Mr Grinch. I think it’s hilarious.”

“Perfect, no damage to the gingerbread house,” Montgomery said proudly. “And that sweater is dire.”

“You have no idea how slowly and carefully I drove,” Ripley assured him. “I was given strict instructions. I’ve had this sweater for years, it’s my Christmas tour sweater.”

Montgomery laughed. “I know, I remember. It’s still awful. Merry Christmas anyway.”

“And to you all,” Ripley said, nodding around.

“Are you going to have any room for this, Rip?” Sullivan asked in amusement.

“Look it’s a hard job,” Ripley said lightly, leaning against the kitchen bench next to Hughes. “But _someone_ ’s got to eat their way around the Seattle Fire Stations.”

“Who’s got the best decorations? Who won?” Bishop almost demanded of the Chief.

“It’s been four weeks,” Miller groaned. “Four weeks of decorating, of tinsel _everywhere_ , for this damn competition. Please tell me it’s over.” Warren laughed.

“I don’t know,” Ripley said disinterestedly, sneaking a piece of carrot off the chopping board Hughes was using.

“You don’t know?” Bishop’s voice went up an octave. “But you’ll have been to a few stations?”

“Try all of them,” Sullivan snorted. “The Christmas tour of the paper-pusher.”

“Don’t be jealous, just because as a good Chief I’ve gone to every station today,” Ripley said.

“And eaten all their food,” Hughes stage-whispered. “Here, chop this. Relatively finely, for salad.” She handed him a knife and a head of lettuce.

“You know, everyone else has just given me food,” he quietly mock complained, but took the knife and started obediently chopping. “And I haven’t brought anyone else dessert.”

“That we made,” Hughes pointed out, equally quietly. “You gotta work for your food here.”

It was still a bit awkward, Ben thought. He and Miller had only found out about Ripley and Hughes a couple of months ago. At work they were remarkably professional, and Ben knew from experience how difficult that could be. Socially, however, neither of them were at ease with the whole group. Ripley had come to drinks a couple of times with them, but had never stayed long, and usually had just sat and talked with Sullivan.

So it was a source of fascination for him, watching the two of them interact. And not just him, it seemed, Miller was also watching them closely. Sullivan and Gibson were almost studiously disinterested, while Travis had settled into an easy kind of light banter with Ripley. Herrera and Bishop fell somewhere in between the two responses.

“How can you not know who won?” Bishop was like a dog with a bone with any competition, and Christmas decorations were no exception. Ben had heard from Herrera how in _October_ Bishop had allocated her team areas and themes to decorate.

“It’s not exactly part of my job description, to judge the Christmas decorations competition,” Ripley said. “But I think I did see an email…”

“Really?!”

“Please put her and us out of our misery,” Sullivan interrupted. Ripley chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Bishop, your hard work paid off. You won,” he said.

“YESSSSS!” Bishop fist-pumped the air. “Yes!”

“You’ll have the Christmas hamper tomorrow,” he said. “I dropped it off there on my way, it’s in the Captain’s office.”

“Thanks, sir, good to know,” Bishop nodded. She finished putting a tray in the oven, and then reached back over for her Christmas hat.

Ripley looked taken aback. “Sullivan, Montgomery, you’re having a go about my sweater when _that’s_ being worn in your station!?”

Bishop laughed. “Secret Santa did me a favour,” she said, settling the hat over her head. It was an absurdly tall Christmas tree hat, with jangly ornaments. It was even more hideous than Ripley’s jumper – and that was saying something. “I can wear it next year as Decoration Captain.”

“Not content to settle for Champion of 2019?” Herrera ribbed gently.

“Onward and upwards,” Bishop said, disturbingly grimly for a Christmas competition.

“Secret Santa was hat themed,” Miller said, getting up and putting on his own hat as everyone groaned. He sidled up to Bishop, who rolled her eyes, but dutifully pecked him on the cheek.

“Not that he’s been abusing it or anything,” Hughes muttered about Miller’s mistletoe encrusted hat. Ripley laughed.

“Oh, here you go, Miss Grinch, you’ve been mistletoe-d,” Miller laughed, plonking the hat on her head and stepping back. “Go on then, kiss someone you’d rather.”

An awkward silence immediately fell over the room as everyone stared at Hughes and, standing right next to her, Ripley.

She went red.

Interestingly, to Ben at least, the normally impassive Ripley went redder. After a long, very awkward moment, Hughes leaned up and pecked Ripley on the cheek.

“Chief, are you _blushing_?” Ben heard himself say, immediately regretting it when everyone turned to look at him. Hughes immediately moved the hat off her head, tossing it to Herrera, throwing her a desperate look.

“Right, well, turkey’s not far off and the vegetables are in the oven so let’s start on the KP so it’s not too bad afterwards,” Herrera said briskly, putting the hat out of Miller’s reach and then clapping her hands. Gibson immediately got up from the table and started to clear it. The noise started back up in the room, and Ben watched the colour recede from Ripley and Hughes’ faces.

“This is hilarious,” Miller muttered in Ben’s ear, slinking back to the table, nodding at them.

Ben could only murmur agreement.

* * *

 

Poor Ripley didn’t even see Dean coming, probably because he clearly hadn’t expected the trick with the mistletoe hat to be repeated so soon after the earlier awkwardness.

“You’ve been mistletoe-d,” Miller crowed. Ripley again blushed furiously, but, clearly not wanting to prolong the awkward moment, leaned down and pecked Hughes on the temple.

Which only caused her to blush.  “You’re such a pest, Miller,” she said, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice.

“Me? I’m just spreading Christmas cheer,” he said with a falsely light tone, cramming the mistletoe hat onto his own head and giving the nearby Montgomery a warm kiss on the cheek.

“Aw, thanks, Dean, that was nice,” Montgomery said, smirking at Hughes. She closed her eyes in exasperation.

“Dinner’s ready,” Andy turned around from the oven with the turkey. “Warren, you were going to carve?”

Ben immediately hurried over, grabbing another set of oven mitts and taking the tray from her. He carried it to the table and started to carve.

Ripley and Hughes had quickly stepped apart, and were carefully setting the table opposite each other. Gibson helped Bishop and Herrera ferry trays of vegetables and gravy to the table, and they all settled into their places.

Apart from Ripley and Hughes, who’d started both setting the table at the kitchen end. Because Jack, Sullivan and Miller had been playing cards at the far end of the table, those three had come back to their seats. The only two seats unoccupied were next to each other, in the middle of the table. Ben watched amused as Ripley and Vic exchanged a long-suffering glance, both moving to take the seats. As they reached them, Montgomery sprung up from his chair and put the mistletoe hat onto Hughes’ head again.

“Really Travis?” she demanded before turning to Ripley. “This is a game, now, they’re just going to continue to make this uncomfortable.” Ripley started to open his mouth to reply but was forestalled by Vic reaching up and pulling him down into a kiss. Ripley froze, his hands flapping for a half second before settling lightly on her hips as he returned the kiss warmly.

It was a long kiss.

Travis whooped and Dean catcalled.

And it became very uncomfortable. Sullivan and Gibson had started eating, their eyes studiously averted. Bishop and Herrera were trying to make conversation.

Ben, however, kept watching as they pulled apart. From his angle, all he could really see was Ripley’s face as he looked at Vic.

In a way it actually felt more voyeuristic than watching them kiss. Ripley’s expression was so soft it made Ben’s heart clench. He looked over to see Travis watching the two of them with a broad smile as Vic leaned back in for a shorter, sweet kiss as Ripley moved a hand from her hip to her cheek. They separated again, and Ripley took his seat, blushing again but somehow seeming more relaxed than he had ever looked in a social context with them.

“Are we done now?” Vic demanded, tossing the hat over to Miller. It would have had slightly more impact if she hadn’t been quite so obviously breathless, but Dean simply grinned at her.

“I think the game might have lost its appeal,” he said with a mock-sigh.

Ben continued to watch as Ripley served Vic, and then himself turkey and roast vegetables, beginning to tuck in as if to try to mask the blush that was slowly fading from his cheeks. He couldn’t help but be amused at the slightly reproachful look Ripley gave Hughes as she piled a medium sized serving of salad onto his plate.

“Ow,” Ben exclaimed as he suddenly felt a sharp elbow in the ribs. He looked over.

“Don’t be weird, man,” Gibson said, shaking his fork. “Stop staring at them.”

“It’s just…Hughes. In a relationship. With the Chief,” Ben muttered back.

“It’s been over a year,” Gibson retorted. “Get over it. They’re obviously not breaking up any time soon.”

Yeah, that much was clear, Ben thought.


	10. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm travelling to visit family so this will be the last update for a while. Happy New Year!

“Man, I’m starving,” Miller said as he headed up the stairs.

“You’re always starving,” Vic pointed out from the back of the group. It had been a steady morning, and they were just coming back now at 2pm after not having had a break. There’d been a multicar pileup and it had taken a while to extricate one of the passengers.

“Chief!” Vic heard him being greeted before she spotted him, and she frowned in concern. He almost always texted before coming to station 19, so that she had warning and could prepare herself.

Her crewmates had gotten much better over the last few months. The first couple of times Lucas had had to come by 19 after their relationship had become common knowledge had been excruciatingly awkward. Lucas had handled it well as anyone could. Vic had been a stammering, blushing mess and had been unable to look at him.

He greeted her crew congenially.

“Hi,” she said, looking at him suspiciously. He was leaning against the bench in the kitchen way too casually, and was doing a crap job of hiding a grin behind a coffee cup.

“Hi,” he replied. “Sorry your present’s a bit late. Happy birthday for yesterday.”

She frowned in confusion, but he nodded round into the dining room, which she hadn’t looked at.

Standing just inside the dining room, so that he couldn’t be seen from the corridor, stood a tall marine in his enlisted service uniform.

Vic’s hands flew up to her face. “Oh my god, Mickey?”

“Happy birthday, sis,” said her big brother, opening his arms wide. Vic needed no further invitation, throwing herself at him at top speed. He grunted, forced a step backwards by the force of her hug, but wrapped his arms around her.

“I missed you,” Vic said, choking up. “I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Vicky,” her brother’s voice sounded choked as well. They hugged for a long, long moment, before Mike gently pushed her away, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at you, baby sis,” he said fondly.

“Look at me, look at you,” Vic took a deep breath, willing herself not to let the tears pooling in her eyes fall. (That would be too cliched). “All your limbs attached, still as ugly as ever…”

Her brother laughed. Somehow, Vic had thought he would look different. He didn’t really; he was thinner than when he had left, and there was a hardness and maturity in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

But he still had the same short crew-cut, the same cleanshaven cheeks, their father’s nose and hazel eyes. The same scar through his right eyebrow, from where he’d fallen out of a tree when he had been nine and she had been five.

“I’m home,” he said, and with great solemnity, took off his cover.

“Don’t, you’ll make me cry –” Vic protested weakly as he set it on her head.

It had been the thing their dad had done, when he’d come home. He’d set his cover on her head, and proclaim that he was home. The last time he’d done that, she’d been eleven. Mike had been fifteen, and already looking at the cadets.

She burst into tears. So did he, and they pulled back into a hug.

“I miss Dad,” he whispered in her ear. “I wish I could talk to him.”

“I miss him too,” Vic said. They hung onto each other for another long moment before Vic pulled back. “Right,” she cleared her throat. “How long do you have leave for?”

“Fourteen days,” Mike replied, a broad grin creeping across your face. “Which, conveniently, you also have.” He nodded towards Lucas.

“What?” Vic couldn’t quite process it.

“Sullivan’s given you fourteen days of leave,” Lucas pointed at her Captain.

“You knew about this?” Vic turned on Sullivan, hands on her hips. He looked taken aback.

“You’re focussing on _me_?” he said incredulously, gesturing back at Ripley.

“I’ll deal with him later,” Vic said dismissively, to laughter from the assembled crew. “Thank you.”

Sullivan looked uncomfortable. “Least I could do,” he said, nodding towards Mike. “For your family’s service.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Mike said formally. He cleared his throat, turning to her team, and for the first time Vic noticed that there was a _lot_ of food on the table. She immediately started crying again, wrapping her arms around her brother and tucking her face into his shoulder. Miller had already started eating.

“Hi everyone,” Mike said, somewhat awkwardly. “Obviously, I’m Vic’s brother, Mike. This might sound a bit stupid, but this food’s for you. Our Mom worked long hours, Dad was deployed overseas, so our old neighbour used to look after us. Whenever Dad would come home, he’d bring food for her from her favourite restaurant, enough to last at least two nights. He always said it was his way of trying to say thank you for looking after his family.” Mike took a deep breath. “It’s just us two now…thank you for being her family for me. Please tuck in.”

“Oh god, now we’re all crying,” Travis said, wiping tears from his eyes. He stepped forward, and introduced himself. Mike let go of her with one hand to shake his, and then it became a weird little procession with everyone introducing themselves to Mike.

Vic’s tears finally slowed, and she wiped her face, pulling away from her brother. “Okay, now I understand why you gave me Seahawks tickets yesterday,” she said, turning and talking to Lucas who had stayed exactly where he was, uncharacteristically smug smile on his face.

“Seahawks tickets?” her brother froze next to her.

“For this weekend,” Vic said, looking back at her brother. It was clear that Mike hadn’t known about that from the look on his face of hope, surprise, and delight.

“You can’t come home and not see a game, man,” Lucas said, and all of a sudden, Mike was not next to her any more, but instead, giving her boyfriend an impulsive bear hug.

“You are never allowed to break up with him, Vic,” her brother instructed, letting a surprised and uncomfortable looking Lucas go. “Unless you actually manage to start dating a Seahawks player. You can dump him for one of them.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go to the game this weekend,” Lucas said to her in mock-alarm, as the table behind them laughed. Lucas dropped his voice, and said apologetically, “I actually have to go now.”

“You don’t have time to eat just a bit?” Mike asked, looking disappointed.

“I know it’s important,” Lucas said. “But I’m kinda already ten minutes late for this meeting.”

“You mean the budget meeting,” Vic said. “That determines the entire department’s spending for next year.”

“Yeah. Frankel’s holding the fort right now, and Ziegler agreed to go with the police outline first for me,” he said. “But I have to deliver our annual report at half past, so I have to be there in ten minutes.”

“It’s half-past now?” Mike said, confused.

“Ziegler always runs long,” almost the entire station chorused. Mike laughed.

“All right,” he said, shaking Lucas’ hand again. “I’ll see you later, then, and thanks man for this morning.”

Mike stepped over to the table, obviously trying to give them a vague modicum of privacy.

“I’ll walk you out,” Vic said, ignoring the jeers and whistles from her colleagues as she took his hand and started walking out with him.

Once they were out of eyeshot down the corridor, she pushed him against the wall and kissed him thoroughly.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It was your brother’s idea,” Lucas said breathlessly. “I just helped him carry it out.”

She looked at him. “I don’t care, it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for us.” She kissed him one more time as fervently as she could before pulling back and instructing him, “I’ll see you tonight, no matter how late.”

Lucas nodded dumbly, staring at her. She touched his cheek gently.

“You need to go,” she said affectionately, turning him around and pushing him gently along the corridor.

“I love you,” he called quietly over his shoulder to her as he went down the stairs. Vic took a breath, and turned to head back to her brother and her team, spotting as she did, Travis sitting in the end seat.

Okay, so they hadn’t _quite_ got completely out of eyeshot of her team. Travis made a gagging motion at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him as she took a seat next to her brother.

“Okay, not long enough for a quickie,” Miller sighed, handing over a ten dollar bill to Travis.

“You’re gross, Miller,” Vic proclaimed, reaching for a plate. She half-wanted to make a comment about Travis not playing fair, given that he’d obviously seen them just make out in the corridor, but decided that would only lead to further teasing.

“As nice as he is, I personally believe that he’s never done more than hold her hand,” Mike proclaimed, looking vaguely sick.

Vic rolled her eyes, and quickly tried to move off the topic. "How long have you been planning this?" she exclaimed.

"Just this last month. I emailed Lucas and we set it up. He picked me up from the airport this morning," her brother replied, tucking in with them. "You guys obviously got caught up - Luke thought he'd have enough time to eat with us."

"Sorry," Vic said, meaning it. It wasn't as much about missing out on having lunch with Lucas, although that was always nice, but more about losing a couple more precious hours with her brother.

"Don't be," he waved a fork at her. "We got two weeks to hang out and catch up."

"What do you want to do?"

"Anything," he said. "A Seahawks game is a good start. Meet your friends, tell them embarrassing stories about you..."

Vic glared at him as her crewmates laughed.

"So, you Vic's older brother?" Travis clearly hazarded a guess.

Mike looked askance at her. "Mrs Gleeson?"

"Mrs Gleeson," she confirmed quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder briefly.

Mike nodded in understanding before explaining to the others. "Mrs Gleeson used to call every time there was a report of troops injured or dead in Afghanistan to ask if it was our dad."

"It's easier to not know; otherwise you spend all your time looking at reports and updates," Vic said quietly. "They'll call. Don't look for trouble." Mrs Gleeson had run the time it had been Dad, but by then all of them had been worn so thin by the constant feeling of high alert knowing of every explosion that it had almost seemed...inevitable.

She couldn't bear the looks people gave her when they knew her brother served; either the people who disapproved of the war or the people who glorified service as if it was some magical calling and not something poor people could turn to for an income.

"Ah," Travis clearly didn't quite understand but he moved on, asking her brother something else. Mike had always been a personable guy, and war hadn't changed that much. Vic was content to sit and listen to him talk with her friends, just glad to have him back with her.

* * *

"You haven't asked me what I'm planning, yet," Mike said as she poured him a glass of beer with dinner. Sullivan had let her leave work early, and she had happily taken her brother home. "My contract's nearly up."

"What do you want to do?" she asked, dread clutching at her heart.

"I'd like to leave," he replied. "I was speaking to Lucas about job options."

"You don't want to be a firefighter," Vic said with surety. "Don't you want to go to college anymore?"

"It's so expensive," Mike replied, looking at his glass.

"We can afford it," Vic assured him. "We paid off Mom's medical bills last year. The only reason you enlisted was because she got sick."

"I'm pretty old," he said.

"Just think about it," she requested. "You always wanted to be a teacher. I think you'd be a great one. Mom never wanted you to enlist and she asked me to make sure you went to college if you still wanted to."

He looked dubious, but Vic knew better than to continue to press the subject. So she nothing more than, "think about it. I'm happy to support you."

Mike changed the subject. "Your Lucas seems all right. Even before the Seahawks tickets."

Vic let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "You like him?"

"Yeah, I do, the age gap and rank gap notwithstanding," her brother said dryly. "How serious is it with you two?"

"We're talking about moving in together when my lease is up here," she admitted. "I ... I love him."

"You do seem happy," he commented, tilting his head to one side. "I'm really happy you are happy."

* * *

 

Vic had half-dozed off next to her book when she heard a cautious rapping at her window. She frowned, tossing up whether to wake up Mike, before deciding to just see what it was.

Lucas' face peered back at her from the fire-escape that went right past her bedroom window. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to muffle her giggles as she slid the window open.

"You're sneaking in through the fire escape?" she asked affectionately. Lucas smiled at her.

"I didn't want to wake your marine brother on the couch," he started to explain, but she pulled him into a kiss, eager to show him exactly how grateful she was for him. For him helping Mike surprise her, for then getting Mike Seahawks tickets, for sneaking through the fire escape.

His mouth opened easily under hers, and she slid her tongue along his. He let out a moan, one hand pulling her hips closer to his and the other curling up into his hair. She started to unbutton his shirt, slipping it over his shoulders and off.

"Wait," Lucas tore his mouth away. "Your brother?"

"He won't investigate this," Vic assured him. "But you can lock the door if you like..."

A shit-eating grin spread across his face and he pressed his mouth to hers again, trailing a hand up her spine and causing her to press herself closer against him.

"I love you, baby," he whispered hoarsely before heading to the door and locking it.

"I love you too, honey," she replied as he returned to her. Vic immediately reached to unbuckle his belt as he slipped a hand up her shirt (actually, one of his old shirts) and lowered his mouth to her neck.

 


	11. Agendas and Journals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T, I guess.   
> So I got back from no internet overseas to a plethora of fics! Looking forward to working my through them :) Here's a longer fic I had written in my head while I was away - I have typed it up this afternoon so I'm sorry if there's any errors.

The day began normally enough.

Lucas’ alarm went off first, and he immediately hit snooze, rolling over to curl around Vic. They cuddled for a few minutes until his alarm went off again, at which point he sighed heavily in her ear, kissed her on the neck, and rolled out of bed.

Vic rolled over to his side, still warm, and burrowed under the blankets. He always showered quickly, and she groaned when she heard him walk back into the room.

“What’s the time?” she asked groggily, not moving from her cocoon.

“Half-past six,” he replied, pulling on his uniform trousers.

“Why so early?” she groaned rhetorically. He laughed at her, and walked out. She heard the whistle of the kettle, and sighed, rolling out of bed herself.

By the time she was out of the shower, he’d poured her tea and her apartment was full of the smell of toast and vegemite.

“That stuff even smells disgusting,” she commented, not for the first time, as she walked into the room.

“It strengthens the souls of my people,” Lucas replied, completely deadpan. She rolled her eyes at him, and glanced to her coffee cup. Pointedly stacked next to it were the three or four letters she’d been neglecting to open all week.

“Is this a hint?” she asked wryly, sitting down in her chair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Victoria, they’ve been sitting in your hall for over a week,” he said. “’Sif mivimg ne muffs.” She looked at him pointedly, and he hastily chewed and swallowed the piece of toast in his mouth before clarifying, “it’s been driving me nuts.”

She sighed, and ripped open the first one, scanned the top line, and threw it down on the kitchen bench before moving to the next.

“That’s a lease renewal notice,” Lucas said.

“Yeah.” There was a pause, and she looked up to find him regarding her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

“So you want to move in with me?” he asked off-handedly.

It was exactly the reason she’d been avoiding opening her mail.

(Well, not really, she was genuinely just terrible at opening her mail, but she’d known that her lease was due to expire shortly).

“I mean, obviously, no worries either way, you know…” Lucas said when she didn’t reply.

“No worries either way?” Vic repeated. He looked taken aback.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s up to you, obviously,” he said slowly, trying to work out where things had derailed. “Whatever you want.”

“That’s it?” she said incredulously.

“What’s it?” he looked confused, and that only made her more angry. “I mean, it’s logical, right? We spend all our time together off duty, basically anyway, why have two wardrobes and two sets of bills?”

“Yeah, in principle,” she snapped back. This was so Lucas. A carefully planned list of pros and cons, the most logical argument, so he couldn’t see why someone might be upset about what he was suggesting. This was a big step for her. For them.

His coffee cup clanged as he set it down.

“Vic, if you don’t want to move in that’s fine,” he said. “I just thought it seemed like the logical next step.”

“So it’s just a matter of logic but you don’t really care?”

He did this a lot, she’d started to notice. Defer to her for any major decisions. Refuse to say what he wanted so that he wasn’t “influencing her”. Or “pressuring her”. And it pissed her off. If, fourteen months in, Lucas couldn’t see her as a partner, could only ever see the ranks in between them and the need to be sure he wasn’t directing her or pushing her then Vic figured she should cut if off now.

Before she did something so fundamentally final as moving in with him.

“I just can’t win,” he growled, clearly angry now. “I’m not going to tell you what you should do –”

“Except at work, you’re happy to do it in that half of our lives,” she interrupted. He recoiled as if she’d slapped him.

“That was always… I’m not suddenly not your boss just because I love you,” he sounded hurt and angry.

The toaster beeped. He looked away, grabbed the toast from the machine and put it on his plate, sliding it over to her with the jam.

“I need to get going,” he said, dumping his coffee cup in the sink.

“So you’re just drawing a line under the sand – and don’t give me that bullshit about not wanting to be late for work,” she said bitterly.

He stopped on the way out of the kitchen, shoulders tense. “Just for the record, it’s not a smaller risk for me having you move in. Just think about how much of a fool I’ll look if this doesn’t work. Silly Ripley with his midlife crisis over a girl too young and pretty for him.”

“You’re worried about how this _looks_?” she said, hurt.

“I’m worried that I’m ridiculously, unutterably, head over heels in love with you and that you are going to break my heart,” he burst out.

“So now I’m just some immature girl you met at work?” she yelled back.

“This entire conversation – “ he stopped, took a breath, and started again. “This entire conversation is ridiculous. You _know_ I don’t think that. Now I do need to go to work because I have a meeting at 0800 across town and it’ll take me at least 30 to get there. I’ll talk to you Friday night.”

“Fine,” she retorted to his back.

He shut her door a little harder than necessary.

* * *

 

She walked to work, fuming. Vic was early, and so she quickly started cooking breakfast despite the fact she wasn’t rostered for it.

A fact Travis didn’t miss as he walked in.

“It’s my turn?” he said half-quizzically as he looked at the board.

“I was early, don’t worry about it,” she said shortly.

Travis frowned, peering at her. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” she flashed a smile that she knew looked insincere. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

He nodded slowly, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get anything more out of her just then as the sounds of their colleagues entering the building filtered upstairs.  “I’ll do your next breakfast shift, then.” She simply shrugged in response, grateful when Warren bounded up the stairs and started grabbing breakfast – oblivious to the tension.

The day was busy, and Vic’s anger soon faded into the background. They didn’t get a chance to catch their breath until 1930, and Vic sank down on the sofa with a sigh, pulling out her phone.

She felt a small wrench at the fact that she had no messages. They weren’t the sort of couple to text every day religiously, or anything (unlike Grant and Travis), but Vic had to admit she’d hoped that he’d have texted something conciliatory or even just a simple, how was your day.

This was the trouble with dating the boss’ boss’ – whatever. With dating the boss. She couldn’t talk to anyone about it. About the little ups and downs – and this felt like a major down. A potentially relationship-ending down.

Which would be…

A major down. In her life. Ever. Including the facts that her parents were dead and her brother was somewhere in the Middle East getting shot at. Breaking up with Lucas would be…

Up there. Not the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Probably equal second. Or third. But Mike being deployed overseas was a hypothetical worst-things-ever not an actual one as he was fine (or at least, his last phone call was fine). So Mike was third. Mom and Dad dying equal first. Breaking up with Lucas would be second.

[He’d clearly be downgraded to third if Mike got hurt. Obviously].

“It’s not a bomb, you know,” a voice interrupted and she looked up to see Travis plunk himself down on the sofa next to her. “Your phone, I mean.”

“Oh,” Vic looked back at her phone and clicked it off again. “Right.”

“What’s wrong?” Travis asked gently.

“Nothing,” Vic replied, unable to summon a facsimile of a smile this time.

“Really? You’ve been quiet all day. At first I thought you were angry, but now…this is more like…moping,” Travis waved his hand around.

Vic stayed silent, and he glanced around. On seeing that they had the room to themselves – everyone else was out in the dining room setting the table or arguing about what was on the stove – he leant forward a little. “Is it to do with Ripley?”

She nodded reluctantly, staring at the black phone screen.

“Vic – ” whatever Travis was about to say was interrupted by Bishop poking her head around the doorway.

“Come on, guys, dinner,” she said. She paused in the doorway. “I’m not interrupting anything  am I?”

“Nope, nup, no, nothing,” Vic said hurriedly, jumping up. “Come on Montgomery.”

“We’ll finish this conversation later, young lady,” Travis hissed in her ear as they headed to the table.

* * *

 

True to his word, after dinner that night her door was unceremoniously pushed open and Travis barged in.

“Hey!” Vic objected.

“You want to know what I think?” Travis asked, pacing up and down.

“Think with the door closed, why don’t you?” Vic glared at him. He shut the door and continued to pace.

“Here’s what I think,” he said, ignoring her clear mood. “I think that you and Ripley have been working super hard on not talking about your relationship to anyone else, for obvious reasons. And now you’re lonely. It’s the two of you in your little relationship shell over there, and then there’s you and Ripley in separate spheres outside that relationship.”

Vic stared at him.

“So if you have a fight,” he bounced onto the bed next to her, voice softening. “You feel you can’t talk to anyone or bitch about your boyfriend. Am I warm?”

Despite herself, Vic gave a tiny nod.

Travis sighed. “Vic, I don’t care who he is, or what he is. I care about you being happy. I won’t _ever_ tell anyone about any conversation you have with me if it’s something serious. No matter what or who is involved.”

“I just,” Vic felt herself start to choke up. “I just…we had a fight.”

“Mmmhmm,” Travis nodded encouragingly.

“It was a big fight,” she said stupidly. “A really big fight.”

She stalled again, and Travis wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Okay,” he said gently. “I have time.”

She met his eyes, and then the whole sorry tale spilled from her lips in one go. Travis had to make her go back at various points as she was so incoherent.

“Okay,” Travis took a deep breath. “Wow. There’s…a lot… there.”

“Like I said,” she said wryly. “Big fight.”

“Okay. So, let’s start with how you’re feeling about it now and work backwards,” Travis said with a sigh.

“Sad?” Vic said.

“Sad?”

“Scared.”

“Sad and scared, okay,” Travis motioned again with his hands. “Sad because we’re scared about the relationship ending, or because we’ve decided to end the relationship and we don’t know how he’ll react?”

“I don’t want it to end,” Vic replied. “I just…look, he threw out the option of moving in with him like it was nothing. It was so casual. I mean, we’d sort of danced around the idea but we hadn’t properly discussed it. And every time it comes to a decision – what we’re doing or where we’re going or who we’re telling – it’s like he doesn’t want to give any input because he’s always worried about pressuring me but if I’m supposed to be his live-in girlfriend then he’s got to give his input. And not worry about that because I don’t. It’s condescending to suggest that just because at work he’s got rank or that he’s older that I’m somehow incapable of making up my mind independently!”

She paused for breath.

“Okay, and we’re still a little angry,” Travis said gingerly. “Have you talked to him about the last issue?”

She shook her head. “I mean, I yelled at him about it this morning but not properly I guess.”

“We need to organise this,” Travis said with a sigh. “So that’s one thing you need to address. Then the second thing you need to address with him, and that’s –”

“An agenda,” Vic said, throwing her hands up in the air. “That’s exactly how he organises things. That will make sense to him.”

“Oh my god, you guys are so boring,” Travis rolled his eyes. “But okay, let’s do an agenda.” He waited while Vic rummaged around for a paper and pen. “So item one, need for Ripley to recognise Vic is a strong independent woman whose opinions won’t be swayed by some Fire Chief who is twenty years older than-”

“Fifteen,” Vic corrected automatically.

“Fifteen years older than her giving input into relationship decisions. Item 1b, what does Fire Chief want? Is he asking Vic to move in with him because he wants her to or because it’s the next thing.”

“Now we need 1c, which is does Chief’s incredibly smart and hot girlfriend _want_ to move in with him, and for that we’ll need a Ripley approved pros and cons list,” Vic continued.

“Pros?” Travis asked, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen too.

“One wardrobe,” Vic said immediately. “I guess one set of bills – I’ll write as 1d to discuss division of financial responsibility if this goes forward – I mean, it’s his mortgage but I’m not not helping with bills.”

“Cos you a strong independent woman who don’t need no man.”

“Correct. More pros…his house is nicer than my apartment,” Vic paused, adding somewhat sheepishly, “I love him.”

“I mean, look, that’s good to be on the pros list,” Travis nodded. “All right, cons?”

The atmosphere immediately changed and there was a long pause.

“This immediately implodes when he realises I’m a slob and a barely functioning adult and then I have nowhere to live,” Vic said quickly.

Travis frowned. “Let’s put that as ‘fear of relationship failure’. It’s a little less specific.”

“Yes. Good.” Vic paused. “Um oh and the fear that he doesn’t actually want to move in with me and this is a logical step thing.”

“Anything else?” Travis asked delicately as he finished writing. Vic shook her head.

“Okay. So for pros we have four solid and good reasons – one wardrobe, it’s cheaper, his house is nicer, and the small last minute addition of you love him. And then for cons it’s a whole bunch of unfounded neurosis,” he arced an eyebrow at her. There was a pause. “I’m right in saying this is your first big relationship?”

Vic nodded.

“It’s not the end of the world if you move in with him and you both realise it’s not working,” Travis said.

“No but…” Vic took a breath. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. I just…”

“Do you want to marry him?” Travis asked slowly as the thought occurred to him.

“No,” Vic said quickly. “I mean, I might. If he wanted to. I don’t think – he’s been married twice before and I feel a bit weird about the thought of being the third Mrs Ripley and he I think has lots of concerns about marrying again as it –”

“Okay, let’s go easier,” Travis interrupted. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with him making adorable curly-haired caramel coloured babies?”

Vic blushed. “I’m not ready for kids yet,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know him very well,” Travis said. “What – why?”

“I mean, he’s hot,” Vic shrugged.

“He’s a solid 8,” Travis agreed. “But you’re like a 9, so you’re out of his league.”

“Montgomery. Have you _seen_ how blue his eyes are?”

“8.5 then,” he conceded. “Okay, he’s hot but yes we knew that.”

“The sex is…like…” Vic blushed again, waving her hands a bit. “Okay, yeah, you get the picture. It’s good. Better than good. The best.”

“Okay, happy to move on,” Travis assured her.

“He’s really dorky and nerdy and he has really nice sweaters and he smells good and he’s sweet and funny and has a great smile and listens really well and is really well…I don’t know…weirdly sensitive while being the kind of guy who can drink beer and watch any kind of sport really happily.”

“Con: will take a lot of alcohol and ice cream to get over Ripley if breaks up now,” Travis said as he wrote. “May send Travis broke.”

“Anyway. This list is very much a I want to move in with you and have lots of sex and potentially-illegitimate but very charming children,” Travis said.

“Okay, yes, 1c is Vic saying yes will move in with you if you actually want me to,” Vic said, still blushing a little. “And item 2 is if we go ahead we need to look at integrating our lives a bit more in terms of our friends.”

“Not family?”

“We have fortnightly dinners with his mom, and monthly dinners with the rest of his family,” Vic said absently as she continued to write. “There’s like, three sisters and their families and his mom who are all local. They’re lovely.”

“How have you kept this stuff a secret?” Travis asked incredulously.

“It’s not really a secret…nobody asked,” Vic said defensively. “And I wouldn’t have said because … well…Chief’s girlfriend etc.”

Travis laughed, and then the moment was broken by the sound of the alarm.

“Time’s up for now,” Travis said with a sigh.

“No, I think I’m good from here,” Vic said, carefully folding the two bits of paper and sticking them in the bedside table drawer.

* * *

 

 _Can we meet up?_ _I’m at the bar._

_I’ll see you in five._

“What happened?” Travis asked, sliding onto the barstool next to Vic (only seven minutes later, he was proud to note).

“Nothing,” she said gloomily, sucking her drink through the straw.

“Nothing?” Travis asked, confused, signalling the barman for a drink.

“I texted him,” Vic said. “Saying we need to talk. He said yes, and he’d call after work. It’s 1730 now.”

“What time does he normally finish?”

“It’s supposed to be 1630, but it’s usually 1730-1800, but he normally texts at 1630 anyway if it’s the day following the end of my shift to see if I’m free or sleeping or what I want for dinner,” Vic said, picking at the coaster.

“Okay.”

“Can you wait with me?”

“Of course,” Travis assured her.

They sat mostly in silence, sipping at their drinks, and as the clock ticked past 1930, Travis had had enough.

“Okay, nope, this isn’t working. We need trashy movies and ice cream,” he said. “And they are conveniently located around the corner in your apartment. So. Let’s relocate this pity party.”

“Hey, Travis,” Vic grabbed his arm as they stood.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” she said, giving him a hug, before mumbling into his shoulder, “it’s just…Bishop hates him, and Herrera’s still all weird about it, and I’m not having this conversation with Sullivan-”

“Any time,” Travis interrupted, hugging her firmly back before they headed out towards her apartment.

As they got to her floor, her phone started to ring.

“Hi, where are you?” she sounded cautious. She paused for a moment before saying, “never mind.”

She hung up and started walking faster around the corner. Travis followed, unsurprised to see the Chief leaning against the wall outside her door looking at his phone in confusion. His face cleared and he straightened up as he saw them come around the corner. He was still wearing his uniform, although Travis couldn’t help but note that all the shiny pins and insignias of rank were missing.

It made Ripley look oddly small and vulnerable.

“Hi,” Vic repeated.

“Hey,” Ripley replied. There was an awkward pause as his eyes flicked over to Travis. “Look, I can come back.”

“You’ve got a key,” Vic said at the same time.

In that moment, Travis hated Ripley for making his beautiful tall loud friend sound so small and defeated.

Ripley gave her a look of what Travis could only describe as helplessness.

“Yeah but I wasn’t going to assume –” Ripley said in a pained tone. “Look, I’ll come back later.”

“No, no,” Travis held his hands up. “You two need to sort this out. Vic, breakfast tomorrow. Regardless.”

She nodded, not moving her gaze from Ripley. “Thanks, Travis.”

* * *

 

“Sorry, work ran late and then I lost track of time as I planned what to say,” Lucas heard himself say as he followed Vic into her apartment. She set her bag on the table with a sigh. “Look, I think…I think things didn’t come out right yesterday morning.”

“Yeah, I…um…same,” Vic said. “Look. Um. Travis and I talked about it and …well…look I made an agenda of things we need to discuss.”

She thrust two pieces of creased and somewhat grubby paper at him.

“It’s an agenda,” he said, unfolding it.

“And a pros and cons list,” she was quick to point out.

Lucas couldn’t help himself; he laughed.

Vic looked hurt and she put her hands on the paper as if to pull them back towards her.

“No no no,” Lucas said quickly. “I … I couldn’t think of how to say it. So…” he handed her the manila envelope in the other hand; it jangled as he did so.

“Lucas, what -?” she asked as she upended it on the counter. His uniform shirt pins clattered onto her counter as did two pieces of (neatly folded and clean) paper.

“Read this one and then this one,” he said, quickly sorting them for her. “I’ll read the agenda and the list.”

“Is this…a journal entry?” she asked him incredulously as he started to read Item 1 on her agenda.

(Her agenda is such a mess. There’s crossed out sections and little arrows everywhere. Lucas wants to frame it).

He shrugged sheepishly. “You do it a lot. Thought I’d try it.”

Her face softened and she gave him the first smile he’d seen from her all night. He offered her a tentative one back.

Suddenly, the ground felt a lot more solid under his feet. He read through the agenda, and absently grabbed a pen from his pocket and started to make notes on the side of the page.

He’d just reached the last item on the cons list “ _Travis likely to go broke buying booze and ice cream if they break up_ ” when he heard her gasp.

“Luke, what the fuck is this?” she asked, holding the second piece of paper away from her.

“Like I said,” Lucas pointed to the first bit of paper. “Or wrote, rather. I…I’ve been trying really hard to not scare you away, to not move too fast. But it’s been over fifteen years since I’ve felt anything like this about someone and I know it sounds stupid but I just want you. I want you in my bed, in my house, in my life. I never wanted to get married again but I’ll marry you if you want. I just want you. And if you feel like my job is getting in the way of that well then I’m prepared to go find something else to do – there’s a job advertised for –”

He was not able to finish the sentence as suddenly he was yanked into a very warm kiss.

“You are an idiot,” she said, pulling back and smacking his arm. “I don’t want this.”

“Item 1 is for me to say what I think –” he pointed at his agenda.

“I want you to say what you think, not hand in your resignation,” she snapped. “You haven’t actually handed it in, right?”

“No, I figured we needed to talk about it as a team,” Lucas replied. “I’m just saying – all my cards are on the table here.”

In reply, Vic pushed his badges back towards him. “Well, as your partner I’m saying this card is off the table for the foreseeable future. You love your job. You’d always resent me from taking you from it.”

“I love you more,” Lucas said firmly, touching her hands lightly. She flipped her hands over and squeezed his tightly.

“I’m still taking it off the table,” she said firmly. “Well, I think we can move onto agenda item 1D then.”

* * *

 

A phone beeped, and Lucas groaned into the very warm neck his face was currently resting in.

“Mine or yours?” he asked sleepily.

“Montgomery, confirming breakfast time,” Vic’s reply was punctuated by a yawn.

“What time is it?”

“0600, he does yoga or some shit on Saturday mornings,” Vic said, equally grumpily.

Her fingernails lazily scraped the nape of his neck and he shuddered.

“Travis is asking to meet him and Grant at 0900?” Vic asked hesitantly.

“Item 2,” Lucas – with effort – lifted his head up from her neck to look her in the eyes. “Sure. I agreed with you it was important.”

“Actually, it was Travis who pointed it out,” she said quietly, continuing to stroke his neck. Lucas grunted and let his head fall back down, nestling his face back into her neck.

They remained like this for a few moments.

“Since we’re awake now…” Vic said suggestively, hand trailing from his neck down his spine. Lucas huffed a laugh into her neck.

“Again?” he asked with faux-weariness.

“I thought you said you wanted me in your bed,” she said throatily.

“Actually, I said I wanted you everywhere,” Lucas corrected, shifting to hover over her and letting his eyes drift to her lips. “Which is fortunate as we’re currently in _your_ bed.”

“Shut up,” she whispered, hand trailing back to his neck to urge his face closer to hers until their lips just barely brushed.

Lucas was only too happy to oblige.

* * *

 

“You’re quiet,” Vic stated as they strolled towards the café they’d arranged to meet Montgomery and Grant at.

“Sorry,” Lucas said, forcing himself to admit, “I’m just nervous.”

She shot him a fond smile. “So’m I,” she admitted, reaching over and clasping his hand. He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss to it.

Lucas trailed her into the café. It was clearly popular; so crowded that every person was knee to knee with their neighbour. Vic started to pull him towards a table in the corner.

“Chief,” Montgomery and Grant greeted him, the chef slightly behind his boyfriend.

Lucas winced as he sat down next to Vic.

“Let’s uh, start again,” he said, looking at Grant first and reaching a hand out. “I’m Lucas.”

“Grant,” the other man caught on and smiled at him. Lucas looked over to Montgomery.

“I’m Lucas. You can call me that, or Ripley, or Rip. Given, the, um, context,”

“I’m Travis,” Montgomery replied, shaking his hand with an approving nod. As he released Lucas' hand he looked over to Vic. "What was the outcome?"

"I've got a month before I have to respond," Vic answered. "So we're doing a trial run - moving clothes and some belongings over."


	12. Last to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T  
> And the dominoes continue to fall after Vic gets injured. A throw back to one of the earlier chapters (Flashover).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad; because I was away I missed the theme week notices and I don't have anything for the prompts :( . This was something I was working on before the week but I'm going to pretend it's for the freelancing day! :P

Dean’s not stupid. It’s pretty obvious Vic has been getting some, on the regular. She was swaggering into the station most days, but more than that, she’s content in a way he’s never seen her.

Still, it’s Vic. And his friend is not exactly subtle or reserved, so he figures it must be a friends with benefits scenario.

In retrospect, that was obviously a stupid thought. The fact that Vic was so reticent with the details, so reluctant to even admit there was someone was clearly a defence mechanism on her part.

And so he’s blindsided as he stands on his crutches in the doorway of her hospital room.

Dean’s a big guy. People generally notice him. But right now, Vic’s too busy laughing at something Chief Ripley has said. As for Ripley, he’s perched on the edge of a chair, smiling – yep, adoringly is not too strong a word – at her while holding her hand.

It feels like ages pass before they do notice him. In real time, it’s probably not more than thirty seconds.

Vic sees him first, as she’s the one facing the door.

“Dean,” she immediately looks guilty. Ripley twists in his seat, his expression closing over.

There’s a long moment of awkward silence. Dean’s mind flashes back over the last few months; he’d sort of figured Hughes had a crush on Ripley – she was so _weird_ whenever he was mentioned – but hadn’t thought anything of it.

But it’s midday on a weekday, and Ripley’s wearing his uniform, and so he’s clearly just dropped by on his lunch hour to see her.

Footsteps echo behind him, and he automatically glances to see Montgomery, Bishop, and Herrera coming up behind him. The four of them had arranged to surprise Vic for lunch; Dean had had an appointment to have his cast replaced, and the other three had the day off. They look unsurprised to see Ripley, and Dean realises they already know.

“Am I the last to know?” he asks, angrily.

Vic squirms. “Travis only just found out,” she says defensively.

“Well, I was the one left inside a burning building with you,” Dean snaps. He fixes his gaze on Ripley, anger at Vic making him bolder with the Chief than he’d normally feel comfortable being. “So I’ve gotta ask…were you making a point when you left us?”

“The building had just exploded and was collapsing-” Vic’s voice rises.

“Victoria,” Ripley says gently, cutting her off. She immediately subsides, looking at him. He looks at Dean, meeting his eyes calmly. “There were five crews at that scene. I didn’t know who Sully had tasked to go into the building. I knew you were, because you issued a Mayday, but I didn’t know who was with you until Montgomery started to try to argue with me on the RIT. So the answer is that our relationship didn’t factor into my initial decision to not send a RIT.”

He pauses for a moment. “I don’t know that that will make you feel any better about the fact that I didn’t send a RIT. But sending a team of firefighters into a building that’s just exploded and is collapsing is not something that I am prepared to do, and I stand by that decision.”

“So you were prepared to let the building collapse on me and whoever was with me,” Miller presses. Ripley flinches, but continues to meet his eyes.

“Better that we are trying to rescue two firefighters than six,” he says. “My hope was to control the fire, and that the building would collapse as a lean to – as the most significant obvious instability was at the AB corner. That would’ve given you a void to remain in, and we could then look at sending a RIT. You freed yourselves before any of that could happen.”

“There was maybe a minute between you calling the Mayday and you freeing yourselves,” Travis speaks up from behind him, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. He shrugs it off angrily.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Vic,” he turns his ire onto her. “You of all people after the Jack and Andy thing –”

He snaps his mouth shut, but too late as it’s clear from Ripley’s expression that he didn’t know. Ripley looks both uncomfortable and alarmed, gaze shifting behind Dean to Andy automatically.

“They broke up, this was ages ago, can you pretend you didn’t hear that?” Vic says hurriedly.

“Hear what?” Ripley says, looking relieved and visibly relaxing. “This tinnitus, y’know. Too many years of hearing explosions.”

Vic giggles a little.

“Thanks,” Andy sounds embarrassed and a little subdued.

“You should go,” Vic says gently to Ripley. He has to let go of her hand to push back his sleeve and look at his watch.

He sighs, and looks at her. It’s a little unsettling to see them have a quick nonverbal conversation, but Ripley nods. He hesitates, before taking her hand again and squeezing it.

“See you later,” he says to her, before standing. He slips on his jacket and picks up his messenger bag from the floor.

“Have fun,” she says back, awkwardly.

Ripley awkwardly nods to the firefighters in the door and they all have to shuffle so that he can push past.

“Come in,” Vic says after a long moment of silence. Dean manoeuvres his way in.

“Looks like we all thought to surprise you for lunch,” Travis says too brightly.

“He was passing back to HQ from 88,” Vic explains somewhat sheepishly. “Dean – I’m sorry. You’re right it was a bit hypocritical but I … his job …” she takes a deep breath. “It started kind of casually but when it became serious it got really complicated because of his job and so it just was easier to keep it quiet. Plus I knew people wouldn’t be happy about it.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “Just, just give me a minute, Vic,” he says, setting his crutches down carefully and hopping into the chair. Travis sits himself down at the foot of the bed, while Andy and Maya take the other two chairs.

“He didn’t know about me and Jack?” Andy asks into the silence.

“Of course not,” Vic says, sounding a little offended. “I mean, that’s not something he needed to know.”

“Say you found out now that Jack and Andy were a thing,” Maya says slowly. “Would you tell him?”

“No,” Vic says, after a brief pause. “It would put him in a really uncomfortable position,” she looks a little sheepish. “I would encourage them to formally disclose the relationship, though. From my own experience of it; we probably should have disclosed a little earlier than we did.”

“So the whole department knows?” Dean asks, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

“If by whole department you mean HR has a piece of paper somewhere and Frankel,” Vic replies. “It’s not…I mean…so Gibson accidentally found out the day after we got together –“

“The perils of caller ID,” Maya looks amused as she explains at Dean’s look of surprise.

“And then Maya and Andy dropped by unexpectedly and Lucas was over having dinner…that was a couple of months ago,” Vic continued. “And we told Sullivan a few days after that.”

“I only found out when we were in the ambulance here,” Travis says.

“You’re not angry about that?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Luckily for her she told me when she was really sick,” Travis pats her leg. “So I sort of very quickly moved past anger. I’m still hurt she didn’t feel she could trust me.”

“It’s just…I knew you’d all say this was a terrible idea –” Vic says defensively.

“Because it is,” Maya interrupts.

“But she loves him,” Andy says with a shrug.

Dean looks sharply at Vic, who blushes a deep red and nods, fidgeting with the bedcovers.

“And he’s absolutely besotted with her,” Travis says dryly. Dean didn’t think Vic could go redder, but she does.

“Yet he was cool with leaving her inside a burning, collapsing building?” Dean asks sceptically. He turns to Vic. “You’re okay with him being okay with making that decision; we both could’ve died.”

“He looked like he was having a heart attack when he got to the hospital that night, don’t you remember?" Maya points out.

“He always struggles with those decisions,” Vic says firmly, hesitating a little before continuing, “there are nights he doesn’t sleep. But when he was a rookie, there was a big incident and five firefighters died, and one was paralysed after a RIT was sent in to an unstable building. One of them was a friend of his from the Academy – it was their first week out of the Academy.”

“You can’t be on a RIT if you’re a rookie,” Andy frowns.

“You could back then,” Vic shrugs before looking back at Dean. “He’s a good man, and I’m really proud of how he made that call. He always wants to rescue people, and he struggles with trying to make sure the risk to other firefighters is minimal.”

“Okay,” Dean says after a long moment. Maya’s words earlier had struck a chord; on thinking back, Dean remembers that Ripley _had_ looked like shit that night of the incident. A thought strikes him. “Wait, back when he was a rookie you could be on a RIT as a rookie? _How_ much older is he?”

“Around fifteen years?” Vic says.

“Does it meet the, you know, half his age plus seven rule?” Dean asks curiously.

Vic pauses for a moment, obviously thinking. “Um, I’m not sure actually.” She grabs her phone and starts tapping out a message. “I think it’ll be close.”

“When’s his birthdate?” Maya asks, looking a little put out that it was Dean who first asked about that rule.

Vic waved her phone. “Not sure. He did tell me at one point but I forgot.”

It’s not more than a minute or two before Vic’s phone starts to ring.

“Shouldn’t you be doing some important paperwork?” she asks as she answers with a broad grin, blushing a little.

“Could he even be back at his office yet?” Travis whispers.

Andy nods. “It’s literally around the corner.”

“Sure, sure,” Vic’s saying. “Anyway, what is it? If you don’t tell me, I will ring your mom….yeah. Have you…?”

“His _mom_?” Dean’s a bit taken aback. “Wait, you two found out a couple of months ago? How long-”

“It started on your birthday,” Travis says with a smirk.

“Oh,” Dean scrunches up his face, unsure how he feels about it. “Ew?”

“Shh,” Maya jerks her head in Vic’s direction, and Vic blushes a little.

“Oh,” Vic sounds thoughtful. “Does that bug you?”

There’s a pause as Ripley replies.

“No, not really,” Vic says, presumably in response to the same question. “I mean, I think the fact that you’re my boss’ boss’ boss is a more relevant issue.” There’s another pause. “Anyway, it’s not really a rule. Just something someone came up.” There’s another pause. “Yeah, we’re fine or will be. I think. Don’t worry about it, Luke.”

Okay, Dean had sort of known Ripley’s first name was Lucas, but he’d never thought of him as a _Luke_.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m fine either way,” Vic’s saying now. There’s another pause. “That’s okay, you’re at work. I didn’t expect you to call in the first place. You too.”

Dean’s never heard her speak in this kind of tone before. It’s gentle, and soft, and … loving? It’s kind of weird.

“Well?” Maya asks.

“Sounds like you don’t pass the test?” Andy asks.

“Oh no, we just scrape past. He’s not forty-five till June,” Vic says. “So I guess technically there’ll be a period between June and October this year where we fail that test, but if we do a month break down we must be okay.”

“Hang on, does Warren know?” Maya asks suddenly, realising that he’s the only one not accounted for.

Travis and Vic both laugh.

“Well, Dr Bailey knows,” Vic points out.

“Because Ripley’s been visiting?” Travis asks teasingly. Vic blushes but nodds. “And when Warren and I dropped by on the way back from the call the other day he had the most awkward conversation about how when he started at the hospital Dr Bailey was his boss.”

“I’ve never been so glad to hear a back to back call,” Vic admits. “It was such a weird conversation.”

“Oh, my Dad won’t know, so you beat him, Dean,” Andy offers.

Vic chokes. “Actually he does know,” she says, laughing a little. “One of his poker buddies? He went by Lucas’ office last month and threatened him.”

“My Dad threatened the Chief?” Andy asks faintly. “Oh god.”

“No, it was very sweet of him to do that,” Vic assures her. “And don’t worry, Lucas found it funny. He did ask me to find out whether your dad really had a gun though.”

Everyone laughs at that, and some of the awkwardness fades away.

“Well now everyone’s in the loop, when you are finally able to get out of here, shall we all go for drinks?” Travis suggests.

Vic looks uncertain, and she glances at Dean.

Dean can only smile wryly. “Even the Captain knows before me,” he says. “Look, it’s cool. I just…I didn’t expect that.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Vic says with obvious relief. “I appreciate it.”

“So, drinks?” Maya prods.

Vic grins. “Sure. They’re hopefully letting me home on Friday, then I can come back to desk duty for six weeks, then back properly after that.”4

* * *

 

“I mean, they all wanted to go out for drinks,” Ben says to Miranda as they’re driving to a nearby diner. “But I reminded them that she can’t drink on her meds, so…”

“You sure Victoria’s okay with me coming along?” Miranda checks.

“Yeah, she said she’d be happy to see you there. You’re okay, right?” Ben asks.

“Yes, I just wanted to make sure. I mean, I feel I’ve now treated most of your station!”

They’re running late, but Ben’s relieved to see that they’re not the last there as they meet Jack and Dean at the door.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t only own tight pants,” Jack says in exasperation as he holds the door for Dean who hobbles through on his crutches. “Dean refuses to let me help, and it takes him forever which is why we don’t even beat the doctors.”

Ben laughs. “There’s no secret I’m afraid other than wearing shorts,” he assures Dean.

“Yeah, I’m just running low. I don’t wear a lot of shorts,” the other man replies.

Ben’s mildly surprised Sullivan’s actually turned up. He’d known the Captain was invited, but hadn’t really thought he’d show. But he’s very surprised to see the Chief sitting opposite Sullivan and next to Vic. It takes him a minute to recognise Ripley in casual clothes; he looks surprisingly normal and much less intimidating in casual jeans and a plain t-shirt.

Somehow Ben had thought of Ripley as being the kind to wear button down shirts even off duty.

“Sorry we’re late,” Gibson says. “It’s Dean’s fault, he takes forever to get ready.”

“I’ve got a broken leg!” Dean says defensively.

“I was happy to help,” Jack resumes the argument.

“No, man, it’s weird,” the four of them take their seats. Because of his leg, Dean takes the end of the table, propping it up on a spare chair.

“You feeling okay?” Miranda asks Vic immediately.

“Honey, she’s only been out of hospital for, what, four hours?” Ben chides.

Vic grins. “I’m great, thanks,” she says. “No offence, but I’m really glad to be out of there.”

Miranda simply smiles back. “No I understand. Hell, I spend all my time there and I hate it too.”

Having Ripley there is weird, but it actually works kind of well, Ben thinks, as the team settle into amiable conversation while waiting for their food. It means that he and Sullivan are mostly just talking to each other, occasionally involving Vic and Andy who are sitting next to them.

Sullivan’s been a lot more personable since the early days, but casual conversation with him is still a bit stilted.

It’s not until partway through dinner that Ben thinks he might be starting to miss something. He thinks he sees Vic steal a chip from the Chief’s plate, but the Chief doesn’t react, so he assumes he’s mistaken.

Until Vic asks him to pass the water.

Ripley and Sullivan are engrossed in a discussion on baseball, it seems, and so she repeats herself, nudging him casually in the side. “Lucas, can you pass the water please?”

Ripley does so without batting an eyelid.

“Since when are you on first name terms with the Chief?” Ben doesn’t quite mean to ask it as loudly as he obviously must as the table goes so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone turns to look at him in confusion. He glances at Miranda, who’s trying not to smirk and badly hides it by stuffing a forkful of pasta in her mouth.

Meanwhile Vic and Ripley are exchanging a look.

“Wait, you don’t know?” Dean sounds somewhat jubilant.

“What don’t I…” Ben trails off as he looks at Ripley and Vic again. They both flush a little. “Oh. Oh. You two are _together_?!”

“Yeah,” Ripley says slowly, sounding a little confused.

“I thought you knew?” Vic adds.

“Obviously not,” Ben gestures down at himself, glancing up and down the table to see that everyone, including Sullivan, including his own wife, is simply watching the scene in amusement. “Am I the last to know _again_?”

“Before you ask, no, obviously I didn’t tell him,” Miranda says to Ripley and Vic. “It might not have been medical information, but I felt it should still be private. I didn’t realise until we got here who knew.”

“We just assumed…” Ripley says, glancing at Vic.

“Thank you, though,” Vic says earnestly. “That was very considerate of you.”  She turns to Ben again. “So what was with the really weird conversation the other week!?”

Ben looks blankly at her, still trying to process this revelation.

“You know, the super awkward one where you were talking about how you were working for Dr Bailey while in a relationship with her…” Travis prompts. “It was a very specific …”

Oh…and now it makes sense as to why Vic had thought he’d known.

It had been an open secret in the station that Vic was seeing _someone_. Everyone else had seemed to assume it was casual, but from bits and pieces of conversation Ben had gotten the impression she was seeing someone fairly seriously and that he was older. He figured from her evasiveness that the guy was probably married. [He’d had enough experience navigating around secret relationships at Grey Sloan to pick up on some of those nuances].

And so he’d sort of thought that explaining how difficult he’d initially found it working for Miranda might help her open up.

“I just sort of had the impression you were seeing someone older and thought maybe there’d be enough similarities to working for someone you’re with for you to feel you could say more,” Ben explains sheepishly, and badly.

Everyone laughs; even Sullivan. Actually, it’s a little unnerving to see the Captain throw his head back and laugh.

“Well, you were too right on the money,” Ripley says, grinning. “When Vic told me about that conversation we just assumed Dr Bailey had told you.”

“So I’m not the last to know!” Dean sounds jubilant down his end of the table, and Ben can’t help but scowl at him.

“By like not even a week, Warren, don’t worry,” Maya assures him.

“Wait, so when –”

“Oh, please, let me do the run down?” Travis sounds weirdly excited and Vic and Ripley both shrug in agreeance. “So, it started on Miller’s birthday –”

“Again, ew,” Miller interjects.

“And Gibson found out the next day because Vic can’t use caller ID properly,” Travis continues. Gibson waves, grinning smugly. “Then a couple of months in, Maya and Andy drop by her place because they’re worried she’s not hanging with them as often but the Chief’s there having dinner so that’s when they find out. Then Vic and the Chief tell the Captain and Frankel and file paperwork because people now know and they figure they’re going to keep seeing each other. And then she gets squashed by a beam, sustains a splenic laceration and in the aid car on the way to the hospital tells me to tell him that she loves him and then I assume Dr Bailey finds out at the hospital –”

“You work too much,” Miranda interjects, waving a fork at Ripley. She looks around the table to explain. “Kept arriving just after 1900, when visiting hours finish at 1930. Kept having to extend them for him.”

“Thank you, again,” Ripley replies. “And it’s not normally this bad, but the incident debriefing and paperwork involved in a situation like this…”

“Right,” Miranda’s tone is clearly sceptical, but she lets the matter drop.

“And then Miller finds out two days ago because we all went to have lunch with Vic, including the Chief,” Travis continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “And … well… now.” He glances to Vic.

“Good job,” she says sarcastically, giving him a thumbs up.

“I mean, technically I’m not the _last_ to know right? Captain Herrera –”

At the mention of their former captain, Sullivan and Ripley both burst out laughing.

Andy looks worried.

“I’m sorry about my dad,” she says apologetically.

“Don’t be,” Sullivan pats her on the arm. “It’s the funniest thing all year.”

“It’s not that funny,” Ripley says mock-seriously, but it’s belied by the fact that he’s still chuckling.

“See, Pruitt knows,” Sullivan says, cackling. “He went to Rip’s office –’ the rest of the sentence is unintelligible.

Vic’s grinning. “Go on, tell them what happened,” she encourages Ripley, briefly touching his forearm.

Ripley rolls his eyes, and begins to recount the tale.

* * *

 

“And – sorry,” Lucas paused his briefing to check his phone. Seeing that it was Kim, he picked it up. His assistant knew he was in a meeting, and she never called unless it was urgent. She was the Mrs Landingham to his Jed Bartlet.

(He’d made the mistake once of telling her that; and had gotten the prompt response, ‘Chief, I watched the West Wing for years, I know Jed Bartlet. You ain’t no Jed Bartlet.’).

“Hi Kim.”

“Chief,” while he had told her countless times she didn’t have to address him formally, Kim always insisted on using his title. “Pruitt Herrera is here. He’s demanding to talk to you. He won’t leave until he speaks to you. He’s been here for an hour!”

“Oh…kay,” Lucas said slowly. He had an open office policy on Wednesday afternoon. While anyone could drop by to talk to him, most of the time it was either a Battalion Chief or Captain dropping by to discuss something. As much as anything else it gave him an opportunity to catch up on paperwork as most of the time he only had one or two drop ins. “That’s fine. He knows I’ll be another forty-five minutes or so?”

“Just come straight back,” she hissed down the phone before hanging up. Lucas shook his head in amusement before returning to his presentation.

An hour later, he walked back into Kim’s office which adjoined his. He’d almost forgotten about Pruitt, but the other man didn’t give him a chance to walk past.

“Lucas Ripley!” Lucas turned to see Pruitt Herrera slowly get to his feet from his chair. For some reason he was wearing his full dress uniform. “I need to speak to you.”

“Sure,” Lucas replied, nonplussed, gesturing towards his office. “Head on in and take a seat.”

He paused by Kim’s desk.

“He just sat there and _stared_ at me!” she hissed urgently, before handing him a pile of forms.

“Thanks, Kim,” he does a crap job of hiding the amusement in his voice as he heads into his office, closing the door behind him.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, tossing the forms into his in tray and taking a seat. He looks up to see Herrera pacing back and forth. “Take a seat.”

“You know what it’s like, being a captain,” Pruitt ignored him. “You get close to your team. And I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older, or because my own daughter is one of my team members, but increasingly, I feel … quite paternal towards them.”

He stopped suddenly, and glared at Lucas. Lucas was a little confused, so simply nodded encouragingly.

“I found out from Mick Reynolds, we play poker together,” Pruitt continued. “And by god, Ripley, are you lucky it’s not actually my daughter.”

The shoe dropped.

“When you were acting captain –”

“Nothing happened,” Lucas interrupted firmly. “It started later.”

“If you hadn’t said that, I’d have punched you,” Pruitt said. “I still might. You know, her parents are dead? She hasn’t told me, but it’s clear in her file. Her next of kin is Montgomery. So in lieu of her having a dad –”

“Are you…threatening me?” Lucas asked incredulously. Pruitt leaned over the desk, and while Lucas would never admit it, Pruitt was a little terrifying in that moment.

“You break that girl’s heart, you hurt her in any way, and I’ll march down here with my shotgun and ensure that a certain vital part of your anatomy never works again, _comprende_?” Lucas nodded, and Pruitt steps back a little, looking at him with a certain amount of distaste.

“There aren’t words for how disappointed I am in your conduct. I thought you were better than this,” he said.

Lucas’ hackles rose. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, twenty years older, dating a rookie firefighter when you’re the Chief!?”

“I like her,” Lucas burst out. “I really, _really_ like her. I would no matter whether she was a firefighter or not, whether she was my age or not. I have never been a guy who dates other firefighters, but she’s …”

He couldn’t think of a word that doesn’t make him sound like either a jackass or a lovesick fool.

Pruitt narrowed his eyes. “You’d better make her damn happy,” he warned. “I’m not joking. In lieu of her having a father, I will come and find you and you will regret so many things.”

“I have no intention of ever hurting her,” Lucas said firmly.

There’s a pause.

“Do you really have a gun?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I’ll carve your name on some of my bullets,” is the reply, as Pruitt turns sharply on his heel and stalks out of the room.

* * *

 

[Bonus: Full phone conversation

V: Shouldn’t you be doing some important paperwork?

R: I can multi-task!

V: Sure, sure. Anyway, what is it? If you don’t tell me I will ring your mom

R: It’s 21st June 74. Is this to calculate the half age plus seven thing?

V: yeah. Have you…?

R: Yeah, Kylie [his sister] made me. Accountants. We just make it. You’re literally the minimum age.

V: Oh. Does that bug you?

R: I mean yes, a bit. I mean, it should worry me a bit shouldn’t it? Doesn’t the age gap worry you?

V: No, not really. I mean, I think the fact that you’re my boss’ boss’ boss is a more relevant issue.

R: Yeah. I’d agree on that. But the two things together … I mean, it’s not like it’s new information, Kylie and I did this calculation ages ago.

V: Anyway, it’s not really a rule. Just something someone came up with.

R: Everything okay there, with Miller and the others?

V: Yeah we’re fine, or will be. I think. Don’t worry about it, Luke.

R: I didn’t say it before because I thought it might be awkward and embarrass you but I love you. And I’d say it in front of them if I were sure you would be okay with that.

V: Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m fine either way.

R: oh, sorry, I’ve got another call coming through.

V: That’s okay, you’re at work. I didn’t expect you to call in the first place.

R: I love you.

V: you too. See you later.

/hangs up.]


	13. Combustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated E. This is just smut. Pure PWP. It's my first time writing explicit fic so please let me know what you think. Warnings for oral sex, mild dom/sub. You have been warned

So it turns out that when you move in with someone you learn all the things they tried to hide while you were dating but living separately.

Such as the fact that Lucas is a complete slob. The natural state of his house isn’t tidy after all; it’s paperwork, and keys, and half-unpacked shopping all over the kitchen table. It’s books in piles randomly on the coffee table, on a spare dining chair, and on the floor.

Vic’s kind of impressed at how much effort he clearly went to for her, to make the house tidy when she came over.

The other thing she’s learnt is that he runs.

She sort of knew that; if it’s a nice day he sometimes goes for an early morning run on a weekend, coming back slightly sweaty (and, more often than not, climbing over her in bed and waking her with kisses and caresses until she’s as sweaty as he is).

He’s usually a morning runner, but sometimes he’ll go for a run after work, which she hadn’t really noticed much before. It takes her a while to work out the pattern.

It’s the days he comes home with a tension in his shoulders and his jaw clenched that he wants to run. She’d worked out a long time ago, during the beginning phase of their relationship, that Lucas needed time and space to process, and it was pointless trying to talk to him until he’d done so.

Running seems to help him process, and when he comes home winded and exhausted having pushed himself further than he does if he’s going for a morning run, he’s ready to talk.

A common theme emerges; frustration. It might be meetings where he feels he’s banging his head against a wall, or difficulties with junior officers (they’ve mostly abandoned the pretence of not talking about work, at this point; he needs to debrief and so does she).

Then one evening, he comes home with that same tension in his shoulders but he smells of smoke and ash. Vic’s been watching the news, and she knows he’s spent all afternoon at a structure fire that had stubbornly refused to be controlled.

“Going for a run,” he grunts more than says as he pours himself a glass of water and drains it almost immediately.

A thought occurs to her, and as he sets down the glass she decides to test it. She leans up on her tip-toes, into his space, letting her nose trace along his cheek to his lips. He goes absolutely still.

Until she licks at his lips.

His mouth closes down on hers, and she willingly parts her lips for him, his tongue delving inside and twisting around hers. One hand grasps the back her neck so hard she suspects she might have to cover bruises later. The other hand goes straight to her butt, pushing her up against him. She can feel him harden between them as they keep kissing deeply.

Lucas is not normally a rough lover. He absolutely can be vigorous, but she’s never had him be this rough with her, as he bites at her lip and squeezes her ass. Vic pushes him hard, away from her towards the bench. He immediately pulls back from her mouth, starting to stammer an apology.

She ignores him, industriously unbuckles his belt and slips her hand into his pants. Lucas’ eyes roll back a little as she squeezes him firmly. She lifts her lips back to his and he grunts into her mouth, hips jerking towards her. His hands start to push up her shirt, but before he can get too far with undressing her, she releases him and unceremoniously pushes his pants and trousers down, sinking to her knees in front of his semi-hard cock.

“Running’s one way of handling your frustration,” her voice is deep, and she keeps her eyes locked on his blue eyes which are widening in surprise. She doesn’t normally blow him. He tends to eat her out and then slide himself inside her just as she’s come. It works (really works) for them. “I can think of another.” She pauses, licking her lips slowly, “Chief.”

She’s never called him Chief outside of work since they started their relationship.

His cock has been hardening as she kneels in front of him, but at that, it springs fully to attention.

“Fuck, Vic,” his voice is deep and hoarse.

As Vic licks at the underside of his cock, he groans, gripping the kitchen bench tightly.

She’d initially thought to do this as a treat for him, but Vic’s starting to realise that this is really working for her as well.

Generally speaking, she’s the dominant one in their relationship. Even if he’s the one fucking her, it’s usually under her direction, and she knows he likes it like that. And that she likes it like that. It’s not to say that it’s never the other way around, but it works for them better for her to be in charge more often than not.

And while she figures anybody looking at this situation would be saying she’s the submissive one kneeling on the floor calling him Chief, about to suck him off, really, Vic can’t think of a time she’s been more dominant.

He’s entirely in her hands.

Or mouth, rather, as she leans forward and without any pre-emption, takes him into her mouth and sucks hard. He moans, and his knees buckle slightly.

“Victoria,” the word’s barely more than a breath. She looks up to see his head’s thrown back, and his knuckles whiten over the bench.

She lets her teeth drag slightly against his cock as she sucks and slowly releases him.

“Look at me,” she commands.

His head lolls forward and their eyes meet. His eyes are black with pleasure, and he releases the kitchen bench with one hand that trembles as it slides into her hair.

With his long fingers gently pushing the back of her head, she smiles before slowly taking him back into her mouth, keeping their eyes locked. His hips stutter forward, and she reaches a hand up to his hip press him gently back against the bench.

She sucks, tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

“Hughes,” he pleads, voice cracking, as he leaks into her mouth. At the desperation in his voice she moans and slowly starts to slide him in and out of her mouth, alternating light and heavy sucks. His panting gets louder and heavier as she slowly increases her pace, and lets off the pressure on his hip.

His hips begin to jerk forward rhythmically. She moves one hand to his balls, gently massaging them and the delicate skin behind while her other hand squeezes his shaft.

He’s never a vocal person during sex, and all he does now is groan, the sound reverberating through him.

Lucas is so _hot_ like this, wild-eyed and shaking and desperate. Vic sighs around him, her control fraying, and goes to town, sucking and sliding and licking fast, unable to hold back her own moans.

His hips speed up, and his thrusts become more erratic.

“Hughes, _baby_ ,” he pants, and Vic takes that as her signal that he’s nearly done. She pulls back a little, so that just the tip of his cock is inside her mouth, and lavishes attention there with her tongue as she pumps him with her hand.

Not more than a few seconds later his cock twitches and warm ejaculate rushes into her mouth. She swallows and lets up on the pressure as he softens. She gently licks him clean, and releases him, slowly getting to her feet.

He’s looking kind of stunned, knees buckling slightly. She presses her body against his, helping support him against the counter.

She grins smugly. The tension in his shoulders is gone, and he looks loose and relaxed like he does after he goes for one of his ridiculous, breakneck pace, ninety minute runs.

Vic feels pretty loose and relaxed herself, for that matter.

“Okay?” she checks in. He nods dumbly, eyes fixed to hers. His hand hadn’t left her hair, and he gently slides his hand down the back of her neck, caressing the nape. She leans forward into him, nuzzling his nose with hers before gently teasing his lips. “I’ll taste like you.”

He sighs, and his hands drift down her back to lock in at the dimple above her butt, pulling her against him as his tongue slowly slides into her mouth. She’s forced to put her hands out on the kitchen bench to steady them; he’s still wobbly and she’s not better.

They kiss languidly, lazily, before drawing back. He rests his forehead on hers.

“Better than running?” she whispers, her heart so full of the affection and love and desire in his eyes.

He chuckles. “So much better.”

She draws back a little, and smacks him on the chest. “Why not just ask for sex?”

Lucas looks a little embarrassed and shrugs. “Didn’t know it would be that good,” he offers. “But also, it felt selfish. Using you to take out my frustrations on a bad day.”

“You’re too old fashioned for your own good, darling,” she says gently, rubbing her fingers over the place on his chest she’d just smacked him. “I don’t mind if you sometimes just want to fuck. You know that. And there’s no scoresheet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, it’s Lucas John Ripley, and he’s not the kind of guy to fake a bad day to get laid. So these encounters aren’t particularly frequent. Maybe once a month.

To be fair, he doesn’t need to fake it more. They have a healthy sex life anyway. And she senses that he needs to be in a particular type of mood for that kind of sex.

 

While the first time it was her in charge, as he gets used to the idea, those occasions become increasingly the times that he’s in charge. Really, really in charge. To the point where one day, he walks into the living room, grabs her by the arm and pulls her up. He’s already unbuckled his pants, and he pushes them down, sits on the couch and tells her to kneel down and start sucking. It’s so not usual for them, and it’s such a huge turn on that when he’s come down the back of her throat she begs him to fuck her.

[Victoria Hughes doesn’t usually beg].

* * *

 

“Hey, baby,” she doesn’t actually need him to signal the mood he’s in, but he’s taken to greeting her like that only when he’s in this mood.

She winces. It had been a long shift finishing that morning, and she’s sore and tired and quite frankly needs to go to sleep now.

“Can you go for a run instead?” she asks, gently touching his cheek.

“Of course,” he says immediately. He’s still clearly frustrated and tense from whatever had happened that day (he tells her later that he’s had to fire a firefighter for making racist remarks and he’s pissed off that that has to happen in 2019) but he simply presses his lips to hers hard before walking to their room to change into his running gear.

 

* * *

 

She’s chopping carrots when she hears the front door open. Lucas comes into the kitchen, stepping up behind her. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her hips back against his.

“Hey, baby,” he growls into her ear, before nipping at her earlobe and nibbling his way down her neck. His other hand pushes up into her shirt without ceremony, lifting a breast out of her bra and pinching a nipple roughly.

Vic groans, letting her hips buck back against the rapidly growing tent in his pants.

“I thought of you all the way home,” he mutters against the angle of her neck and shoulder as his other hand bunches up her flowy skirt as it slides up to her underwear. “And how hard I want to fuck you.”

She tilts her head against his shoulder, letting the knife fall from her hands onto the bench. He pushes his hand into her underwear, stroking quickly. Vic can’t hold back a moan.

She’d been hoping for this after the day she’d had at work. It had just been stupid, time-wasting crap all day, and she’d been planning to jump him when he walked in. So even before he’d walked in and growled in her ear she’d already been a bit wet thinking about how she was going to jump him. Now, between the tone of his voice and his hand in her knickers, she's ready.

“I had a rough day too,” she tells him. “That's why I’m wearing a skirt –”

He huffs a short laugh against her neck. “Good. Cos I’m just gonna take you hard and fast.” Lucas pulls her underwear down, and she steps out of them.

“Bend over, Hughes,” he orders, and she hears the clink of his belt.

“Yes,” she breathes, obediently bending and bracing her forearms against his kitchen counter.

“Yes, what?” he growls, his hands settling on her hips.

“Yes, _sir_ ,” she purrs, and with that, he pushes in. Hard. She grunts as she feels his balls slap against her ass. He pauses for a moment.

“Okay?” he asks gruffly. In response, she pushes back against him.

There’s no slow ramp up tonight, no teasing. He’s not making love to her, he’s not even fucking her, he’s just taking her. It’s hard, it’s fast, and it’s rough.

“Yes,” she hisses, dropping one hand down to her clit as he pounds into her.

He slides forward a little, leaning over her back as his hands reach up to her breasts. Lucas squeezes them, thumbing over her nipples, his pace slowing.

Every thrust he makes is accompanied by a grunt, and Vic doesn’t bother trying to be quiet.

(That’s the best thing about living with Lucas. He has a house. She doesn’t have to worry about the upstairs or downstairs or next door neighbours like she did when they were in her apartment).

“Victoria,” he moans, peppering kisses on her shoulders.

“Harder, Luke,” she begs. “Please. Harder.”

He straightens up, hands sliding back down to her hips, and speeds up. She whines, the sound of his skin slapping against hers and the feel of him sliding in and out is so good.

One of the things she’d worried a bit about was whether the sex would get stale. She’d never been in a relationship properly before. It was a stupid thing to have worried about. He can make love to her, tease her, fuck her... They know each other well; Luke doesn’t need to fumble around looking for the right spot to hit, and he knows the pressure she likes. He knows what she doesn’t like. And she trusts him to do stuff like this, to just walk in and bend her over.  

The sex is far from stale. She never wants to sleep with anyone else; why would she?

“Toria,” he breathes her name.

The softness in his tone is somewhat with odds with the way he’s driving into her, but she’ll take both.

“Lu-uke,” one of his hands joins hers over her clit, and she trips over his name.

“Come,” he orders. “Come for me, darling.”

His fingers press hers down onto her clit, and she’s throbbing all over.

“Lucas,” she cries his name as he thrusts back in hard. Everything fades away a little. “Luke. Baby.”

His thrusts are erratic, and he doesn’t last more than another four, maybe five, before she feels him spill into her.

“Darling, darling Toria,” he groans, sliding an arm around her waist. They sort of meet in the middle, her straightening back up a bit and him bending forward a bit so that he can nuzzle at her neck. She twists a little, keeping his softening cock inside her, and kisses him sloppily while she brings a hand back around to the nape of his neck, stroking the golden-grey curls.

“Hi, baby,” she parrots, pulling back slightly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles so softly at her heart hurts.

“Honey.”

“Love.”

“Sweetie.”

“Candy-girl,” they’re both giggling now at this stupid game. He slides out and she spins around, looping her arms around his neck, neither of them caring that her underwear is lying on the floor and his pants are still around his ankles.

“Lover-boy.”

“Angel.”

“Snookums.”

Lucas makes a face.

“Snugglepot.”

Vic cracks up at that, leaning her face forward into his neck. He laughs with her, trailing his fingers down her arms and down her back.

“I love you so much,” he says quietly in her ear as her giggles subside.

She tilts her head back.

“You’re my world,” she tells him earnestly.

He really is. She’s so _happy_ when she’s with him nothing else matters. Even if she’s half-asleep while he watches cricket and swears at the Australian team.

If she could only do one thing for the rest of her life, she’d want to spend it with him. Just sitting somewhere.

It’s almost overwhelming.

Lucas doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He presses a sweet kiss to her lips, then to her nose, then to her forehead before pulling her into a hug. She turns her face into his neck and breathes him in.

 


	14. Open House I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T. This is, weirdly, the reason for writing the previous chapter. How Bishop and Herrera come to terms with Vic's boyfriend. Otherwise there is no plot.

It was a little surreal, and, as Maya glanced at Andy she knew her best friend was feeling that way too as they awkwardly bundled into the back of the Chief’s car.

Maya, Andy, and Vic had arranged for a girls’ night; the new season of the Bachelor was starting and the three of them had a shared, somewhat guilty pleasure in watching (and heckling) the show. So Vic’d come over, and they’d just sat down to watch the show when the power went out.

In the entire city block.

Vic had immediately offered her place as an alternative, which wouldn’t have been a problem a mere month ago.

However, the situation was different. Vic had just moved in with the Chief, and it was just a little weird.

Because the Chief would be there. It was his house after all.

Vic had obviously sensed their reluctance, and she’d gotten a bit quiet. Maya and Andy had exchanged looks and sighed. It made no sense to remain in their power-less apartment when a house with power and a working TV was available.

And all three of them had started drinking. They weren’t safe to drive. And it didn’t exactly make sense to catch a cab to Vic’s own house, particularly when Ripley had immediately offered to drive them.

“Thanks, honey,” Vic said breezily, climbing into the front passenger seat and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

“No problem,” he replied, glancing automatically in the rear-view mirror. “Looks like it was a power pole that came down. Probably take a while to fix; the lines are a mess. Traffic was starting to back up around it, so I’m going a different way.”

Maya felt grateful suddenly for Vic insisting they each pack a bag in case the power didn’t come back; having offered their spare rooms.

(Apparently, the Chief had more than one).

“Although it’s really just the couch and the spare room,” Vic continued the previous conversation apologetically.

“Yeah, sorry, we can’t really put people in the Room of Requirement,” Ripley added.

“The Room of Requirement?” Andy asked.

“When we first started seeing each other I was actually genuinely a little worried at what was in there,” Vic laughed.

“It’s my study slash second spare room,” Maya couldn’t actually see Ripley’s face, but the eye roll was clearly present in his tone. “I just keep stuff in it that –”

“Junk, he keeps junk in it,” Vic interjected.

“Well, what do you call what’s in it now?” he asked, sounding amused.

Vic stuck her tongue out at him. “Unpacked boxes. I’ll get around to it,” she assured him. Ripley grunted, clearly dubious.

“Still unpacking then?” Andy asked.

“Yeah,” Vic replied. “Still need to put some furniture together.”

“I still don’t quite understand how between two households we somehow still needed to go to Ikea and buy more furniture,” Ripley commented, amusement in his tone.

“We needed a new bookshelf,” Vic said firmly. “You have almost as many books out of shelves as you do on them, and as you won’t let me give any away –”

“You can’t get rid of books!” the discussion they’re having is clearly a well worn and comfortable fight. “Books are friends.”

“You don’t need two copies of the same book,” Vic sighed in exasperation.

“It’s an interesting edition,” Ripley said defensively. Vic twisted around in the front seat to look at Maya and Andy.

[Maya didn’t need to glance at Andy to know that her friend looked as amused and uncomfortable as she felt].

“By interesting edition he means it’s pretty,” Vic appealed to the backseat.

“Look, it’s got added commentary –” Ripley argued.

“And pretty pictures…”

“And pretty pictures,” he conceded. “Plus, my old copy is kind of falling apart.”

“So why not throw it out?” Vic asked.

“Sentimental value!” Ripley said. “I’ve already promised you I’d just shelve it behind the new Earthsea edition.”

“Earthsea!?” Maya couldn’t help herself. She had actually really enjoyed that series. “I love those books.”

Ripley glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “So Le Guin released a new edition, with her own commentary and a few other tales from the universe. Did you know she wrote another two books in the nineties?”

“No,” Maya said. “Are they good?”

“Yes, but very different. Her commentary is really interesting; she talks about how when she started writing she could only really conceive of that traditional male-based storyline, and as she grew older she talks about wanting to bring women into the universe more. So the last couple of books are focused on female characters.”

“That actually sounds really good,” Maya admitted.

“I’ll lend it to you,” Ripley offered.

“Nerds,” Vic said fondly.

“I’d like to point out in my defence that you wanted to get rid of _my_ Arthur Conan Doyle so that you could have _your_ Arthur Conan Doyle,” Ripley observed.

“He’s my favourite, he’s not yours,” Vic argued.

“My books are in better condition.”

“Mine are…sentimental?” Vic laughed. “We’ve got so much crap.”

“Well, we got rid of two full boxes of stuff from yours in the move,” Ripley noted. “And we’re at, what, two boxes from mine?”

“Three,” Vic replied. “I cleaned out your cupboard today. Is there a particular reason you needed to keep every single gym shoe you’ve ever bought?”

Ripley shrugged. “Might need old shoes for gardening?” he offered weakly.

“Well, you’re down to one spare pair, and your current pair,” Vic said.

Maya and Andy exchanged a look.

“Living together for a week and they sound like an old married couple,” Andy murmured. Maya laughed.

“Sorry for interrupting your night, Chief,” Andy apologised in a more normal tone.

“You’ve rescued me from paperwork, Herrera,” Ripley replied lightly. “And you guys don’t have to call me that outside of work.”

“Travis has gone with calling him Ripley,” Vic offered. She paused for a moment, looking to him. “Actually, hardly anyone from SFD calls you Lucas.”

“Yeah, I don’t know when that changed,” he replied, pulling into a side-street. “Sully occasionally does still. Deb –”

“Frankel,” Vic clarified.

“Frankel never has, actually, although I guess I’ve outranked her for most of the time we’ve known each other,” Ripley sounded thoughtful. “Maybe it’s because I’ve outranked them for so long, including the guys I went to the academy with?”

“You introduce yourself as Lucas at the peer support thing,” Vic commented as Ripley took another turn.

“Yeah, no-one ever takes me up on it. They did when I was Battalion Chief, occasionally,” he replied.

“It’s just a bit too weird,” Maya offered from the back. “It’s different for you, Vic, but he’s … the Chief.”

“Well, whatever feels most comfortable,” Ripley said, pulling into a driveway. “Just know outside of work I really don’t mind.”

He parked, and he and Vic got out. Maya tried her door, but to no avail, glancing over to see Andy was having the same problem.

Vic had already started up the stairs to the house, but as Ripley went to cross over the front of the car he saw that they were stuck in the car. He laughed, and came back to open Maya’s door.

“Sorry, I forgot that child-lock would be on,” he explained. “I picked my niece and nephew from school this afternoon.” He went around and released Andy from her side. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Chief,” Andy replied. “At least you noticed.” That last comment was clearly and pointedly directed at Vic.

“Sorry,” Vic said, not sounding particularly bothered as she unlocked the front door.

Maya followed Ripley into his house. In the lit interior, she could see he was wearing tracksuit pants and what was clearly a very old, oversized station 12 shirt. It was somewhat jarring to see him dressed so casually.

The house was nice. The entrance way opened into a large open plan living and dining area, with the kitchen just to the side. There was a staircase to one side of the entrance way, and Ripley bounded up in his socks.

“Welcome,” Vic said, obviously just realising that they hadn’t been here before.

Glancing around, Maya was glad to see some familiar items – a print Vic had had in her apartment living room hung in the entranceway here, and it was Vic’s coat rack in the entrance way.

“Here, Bishop,” Ripley came thudding back down the stairs, holding a large book.

Maya opened it. It did have pretty pictures.

“Are you sure, sir- Ripley?” she asked, a little reluctant to borrow something he obviously liked.

“Yeah,” he waved dismissively. “Give it back to Vic when you’re done. No rush, I only just re-read it. Come on through.”

He moved away towards the dining table which had a laptop sitting surrounded by paperwork and binders. A cup of coffee teetered precariously on a binder, and there was a half-eaten crumpled packet of crisps to one side.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, sheepishly, mainly to Vic. “I can move to the study.”

“ _How_ have you done that in only a couple of hours?” she asked, sounding both amused and exasperated. “And no, stay there. You’ll never get into the Room of Requirement; I put the box from your cupboard in there until we can take it to the dump. Figured you might want to look through and make sure I’m not throwing out something you desperately want to keep.”

“Thanks,” he replied, sitting back down.

The kitchen seemed to be the one part of the house not hosting a box. The living room had two boxes in the corner, both opened and obviously half-unpacked. Resting against a wall was a box that – from the label – contained an un-assembled bookcase.

“Hey, is that your TV – and couch?” Andy asked as they all moved into the living room. There was one long comfortable couch against the back wall, with Vic’s old love seat set at an angle on the dining room side.

“Yep. We might end up getting rid of my couch, but we figured we'd try having it there. And yes; Lucas’ TV was older than me,” Vic said.

“Wasn’t,” he objected.

Vic made a face and nodded, mouthing _was_. Maya and Andy laughed.

“Did it record right?” Ripley asked from his spot. “These new-fangled TVs…”

Vic turned it on, and quickly paged through menus. “Perfect. Thanks, Luke,” she said. He grunted.

“Sit down, guys,” Vic said. “I’ll get glasses, and plates.”

Andy and Maya settled themselves on the big couch, spilling their snacks out onto the table. Vic did two trips, returning on the first with three glasses, vodka, soda, and a beer and on the second with familiar looking crockery.

“That’s yours,” Maya noted, emptying a packet of candy into a bowl.

“Yeah, we ended up throwing most of his crockery,” Vic said. “He only owned about four plates anyway. Basically all the furniture and appliances are his. The kitchen stuff is mainly mine, because it was nicer; we’ve just merged the linens, thrown some of his and some of mine out. He had basically nothing on the walls because he likes to live in a sterile prison, so almost all of that is mine apart from the photos of his family, obviously.”

It was a little too much information, but Vic was obviously excited and Maya had to admit she was a little curious about how it had all worked.

They started the show. It didn’t take long for Maya to relax; a few sips of her drink later and multiple smart-assed comments about the women's introductions had her sinking back into the couch.

They were maybe halfway through the programme when the sound of a kettle boiling reminded her that she was in the Chief’s house.

“Yes please,” Vic called back at him.

“Anyone else for tea or coffee?” Ripley asked them from the kitchen. Vic hit pause on the remote. “We’ve got green tea, black tea, and then all of Vic’s fancy teas.”

“Do you still have that jasmine tea?” Andy asked.

“Pink box,” Vic said, and Ripley replied in the affirmative.

“Bishop?”

“Just green, thanks,” she replied, as Vic hit play again.

Five minutes later, Ripley carried in two mugs, setting them down on the coffee table. “Jasmine, green,” he said, pointing at each one in turn before heading back to the kitchen.

“Thanks, Ch-Ripley,” Andy said.

“Thanks,” Maya echoed, finding it easier to just not call him anything.

He came back carrying two mugs, and handed one directly to Vic. He perched with the other on the armrest of the love seat that Vic had sprawled across.

“Thanks, Luke,” Vic said softly. Maya pretended not to notice as in her peripheral vision she saw Vic sit up and lean in to kiss him on the mouth briefly.

“This show is terrible,” Ripley said as the next ad break started. “The contestants are awful to each other, the guy seems like a moron, it’s obviously partly scripted. It’s an insult to every feminist ever I would have thought. Why on earth do you want to watch it?!”

The three women exchanged glances.

“To heckle,” Vic said, sipping her tea.

“To laugh,” Andy added.

Maya shrugged. “To watch hot people be dysfunctional and feel better about ourselves?”

“It requires no brain power. Bit like watching cricket,” Vic said archly.

“Hey,” Ripley said with mock-offence. “It’s a great sport. Sport of gentlemen.”

“The most exciting thing that happened the other week was that pigeon annoying one of the referees,” she replied dryly.

“You’re hopeless,” he said. “Anyway, the report says the power’s not going to be fixed till tomorrow. If you really want to go back to an apartment without power, I’m happy to drop you back later, but the spare room’s fixed up and we can organise blankets and pillows and stuff for the couch. The Room of Requirement is a disaster zone, sorry we can’t offer you each a room.”

Andy and Maya exchanged glances.

“If you’re sure,” Andy replied for them both, looking between Vic and Ripley. Vic nodded.

“Absolutely,” Ripley said firmly. “Okay, in that case, I’m going to bed. Don’t forget to hydrate with your vodka. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Ripley,” Maya said awkwardly. He nodded at her.

“Night, Lucas,” Vic said. They looked away as she pulled him into a kiss.

After he’d headed upstairs, Vic looked over at them.

“We agreed on this already, guys,” she said. “It’s an open house, for his friends, for my friends. You guys can drop by to hang with me at any point; Lucas will make himself scarce or sit in as he wants. I’m doing the same with his friends. You’re as welcome here as you were in my old apartment.”

“Thanks,” Andy said, hesitating before continuing. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been together a while but it’s still weird for us because we don’t really see you two together and you don’t really talk about him.”

“Yeah,” Vic looked a little guilty. “We’re trying to work out the right balance. I think now that we’ve reached this point, I’m more comfortable talking about him as my boyfriend and I’m hoping you guys will start to see Lucas as my boyfriend, separate to Chief Ripley.”

“Okay,” Maya said. She couldn’t help but feel a little guilty; she’d been against this whole thing and Vic knew it. Maya knew this had distanced their friendship, and now that she’d seen the two of them together their relationship seemed comfortable and healthy.

“Would Ripley be weird if we just shared the spare room?” Andy asked. “I assume it’s a double? Maya you don’t mind?”

“No,” Maya shrugged.

Vic shook her head. “I don’t think it occurred to him but he won’t care.”

The conversation was interrupted by the end of the ad break.

* * *

 

Maya was always an early riser, and it made it awkward on days like this when she stayed over with someone. Andy was still snoring in the spare bed. She thought she’d heard some murmuring next door, in Ripley and Vic’s room, but she obviously wasn’t going to investigate.

If she’d been at Vic’s old apartment, she would’ve just let herself out, gone for a run (it looked like a nice day through the blinds) and then come back. Here, she wasn’t so sure about banging on the Chief’s front door.

Then she heard a door creak, so she got up herself and opened hers right in Ripley’s face as he came down the hallway.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly. He was dressed in a tight sleeveless shirt and running shorts. “I’m just going for a run.”

“Oh good, I was considering just going for one myself,” Maya said. “Mind company?”

He shook his head. “I’ll wait.”

She dressed in record timing, and pulled her runners out of her bag to put them on downstairs. Ripley was sitting on the floor in the entrance way as she came downstairs, pulling on his own shoes.

“I’m no Olympic runner,” Ripley warned. “Feel free to leave me in the dust.”

She smiled. “Nah, I’ll go easy. Went for a long run yesterday after shift.”

He had the physique for a short to medium distance runner, Maya noted idly. He normally wore layers, so it wasn’t immediately apparent quite how much lean muscle he had.

Vic and Ripley were a _hot_ couple, Maya realised belatedly. And they would have very good-looking children.

“What?” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

There was no way to explain that she’d just realised he was actually really very hot, and that she thought he and his girlfriend would have beautiful babies so she simply shook her head.

“Nice day for a run,” she said instead. He nodded in agreement, and held the door for her.

He set off at an easy pace down the block. She let herself fall into a steady rhythm, easily keeping up as he started to gradually speed up.

It’s Seattle, so there’s a nearby park he goes straight for, pausing at a red light.

“I would’ve thought Vic would be awake,” Maya commented. Her friend is a weirdly early riser, and usually the two of them hang out until Herrera wakes up.

“She is, or was,” Ripley responded. “Might have drifted back to sleep. She doesn’t really like running.”

“I know,” Maya replied ruefully. “Said she hates trying to keep up.”

Ripley chuckled fondly. “It’s because she talks too much.”

“Yes!” Maya exclaimed. The light turned green and they started across to the park. “She just talked the entire way – and I said no wonder you can’t keep up!”

She must not have been as subtle in glancing over at him as she meant to be, because they only lasted one half of a circuit before he glanced over with a quirked eyebrow.

“Okay, out with whatever it is,” he said briskly.

“It might…I don’t mean to be…” Maya stumbled a little.

“I won’t answer if I don’t want to,” he pointed out rationally. “But whatever it is is bugging you, so…”

“When Andy told her Dad you were at her Incinerator trial,” she noticed Ripley start to look tense. “He said that you were a hard man to impress.”

Ripley let out a short bark of laughter.  “ _Pruitt Herrera_ said that?! That’s the pot calling the kettle black if ever I heard it.”

Maya simply shrugged. “Just…you and Vic…”

“Ah.” Maya had sort of expected him to look embarrassed or uncomfortable, but he didn’t.  “Well, I mean, it’s a bit different being professionally impressed and personally impressed. I guess I’m a little strict professionally, but you’re asking me about personally.”

“I guess.”

“It was the moment she apologised to me for the second occasion that she yelled at me,” Ripley said simply. “Not the first time; she’s never apologised for that. But the _second_ time.”

“That makes no sense,” Maya shook her head.

“Okay, so she’s got guts to yell at me in the first place – I haven’t been yelled at in probably ten years. But then she’s got strength of character to go, no, I will apologise to the boss for the second time, not the first. I mean, that’s really something. And then I started noticing the other stuff. Like she’s really funny, loyal,” his face, red from running, went redder. “Pretty.”

“And one thing led to another,” Maya finished. He opened his mouth as if to say something, hesitated, and closed it again.

They ran a hundred or so yards in silence before he spoke.

“Look, I know it was on me to … not. To pull the emergency stop. And there’s a bit of me that’s a bit ashamed that I couldn’t. It’s just,” he hesitated again. “Look, she’s amazing and a delight. And I’m not – I can’t be – sorry. Does that answer the question?”

“I think so,” Maya replied. She hadn’t really known what she was asking for, but his answer was, in retrospect, what she was after. “She’s one of my best friends. I think she’s incredible. I don’t want her to be hurt.”

“We agree on that,” Ripley said fervently.

They ran back to the house in silence, but it felt companionable.

She’d not stopped liking Chief Ripley professionally; he was clearly good at his job, and she liked his approach. But personally, she hadn’t thought much of Lucas Ripley until now.

Travis had once described him as besotted. It was a pretty apt description.

He was a reserved guy, Maya thought. No way would he have acted without Vic making the first move (and from watching Vic pick up guys before Ripley, Maya knew that her friend could be pretty irresistible without even really trying).

“You’re a good running mate, thanks,” Maya couldn’t work out how to word the fact that she’d gone from being tolerant of to approving of the relationship, but she hoped Ripley picked it up anyway as they headed back up the stairs of his house.

“Likewise,” he said after a brief moment of studying her face.

They made a beeline to the kitchen, where Vic stirred something with one hand while holding onto a coffee cup like a lifeline in the other.

“Good run?” she asked as they entered.

“Yep,” Maya replied brightly. “ _He_ keeps a good pace.”

Vic rolled her eyes. “I did tell you in advance that I hated running,” she pointed out.

Ripley handed Maya a glass of water, which she took gratefully.

“Pancakes?” he asked, peering over Vic’s shoulder. She glanced up at him.

“Yep,” she said with a grin. There’s a charged moment before Ripley lent in and kissed her warmly.

It was the first time Maya had actually seen Ripley initiate any intimacy. She’d seen them kiss before, but it had always been initiated by Vic. She’d seen them hold hands a few times, but again, that was because Vic had grabbed onto him.

“You’re the best,” Ripley said, studiously pretending that he wasn’t blushing a little.

“I know.”

He lent in and kissed her again briefly, before busying himself with making coffee.

* * *

 

_3.5 weeks later…_

The three of them stood around Vic’s kitchen, waiting for dinner to be ready. They’d made lasagna in preparation for another episode of the Bachelor. Vic had shyly invited them around again, and Andy had felt they couldn’t really say no. Surprisingly, Maya hadn’t argued either; she simply had mumbled something about how they’d cleared the air on a morning run.

The front door opened, and shortly after Ripley entered the kitchen.

Andy couldn’t quite articulate what it was, but this was definitely the Chief in the kitchen, not the Ripley from a few weeks ago. Maybe the way he walked? The uniform certainly helped make him look Chief-like.

“Ladies,” he nodded towards them, almost curtly. He looked toward Vic. “Hey, baby,” he said, tone softening a little but still remaining quite clipped. He took down a glass and filled it with water. “Time for a run?”

“Take your time,” Vic replied almost airily. “We’re eating in front of the TV anyway. I’ll just leave the lasagna in the oven.”

“Thanks,” Ripley drained the water and walked back out of the kitchen.

If he hadn’t been the Chief, and a bit too old for it, Andy would have said he stomped up the stairs.

“He’s had a bad day at work,” Vic explained to their raised eyebrows, hesitating before adding, “he’ll be better after a run.”

Andy exchanged a look with Maya. She felt she had to check, “do you want us to go?”

“He’s been running for fifteen years after bad shifts. He’ll be better after he has that time to process,” she assured them.

“I get it,” Maya commented, popping a spare piece of tomato into her mouth.

Footsteps thundered back down the stairs.

“Got my phone,” he called from the front hallway.

“Thank you,” Vic called back, before the front door shut.

“He went for a run once around my neighbourhood, got hopelessly lost and somehow ended up across town. Had to borrow a phone to call me to pick him up,” Vic explained lightly.

“This is his own neighbourhood,” Maya frowned.

“Yeah, but if he sprains an ankle or something,” Vic shrugged.

“Ahhhhh true love,” Andy teased, and was rewarded with a blush from Vic as the other woman threw a kitchen towel at her.

An hour or so later, Andy glanced at the clock during an ad break.

“How long does he normally go running for?” she asked curiously.

Vic glanced at the time. “I don’t start to worry until it’s getting to the two hour mark,” she said off-handedly. “Ninety minutes is pretty average.”

“That’s a decent run,” Maya commented.

“Well, some of us drink, some of us run,” Vic said, standing. “Speaking of which – refills?”

Both of them agreed.

It wasn’t until another half hour went by (the second of the two episodes they’d saved to watch was nearly over) that the front door opened.

Andy glanced up to see Ripley enter the kitchen, panting and red in the face. He was covered in sweat, and his hair was a complete mess.

“Good run?” Maya asked. He simply nodded, going to the sink and pouring himself a glass of water, draining it quickly.

“Bachelor Dunderhead picked a girlfriend yet?” he asked in between gasps, coming forward a little and stretching his legs.

“We’re not even halfway through the season,” Vic chided, sitting up and twisting around. “We’re still getting rid of the girls who are clearly not getting through to the last part of the show.”

“God, how long does this show go for?” he asked rhetorically, shaking his head. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Please do,” Vic told him. He made a face at her and headed back upstairs.

They’d just agreed on watching the Oceans Eight movie (the bachelor episode having finished) when they heard footsteps on the stairs again.

Vic pressed play on the TV, collected their plates and cups, and moved into the kitchen.

“Do you want us to wait for you?” Maya asked, but Vic shook her head.

“Seen it before.”

They all had, but it was the only one nobody had raised an objection to. Because Andy knew the plot already, she couldn’t help but watch as Vic put the dishes away in the dishwasher, and then hopped up to sit up on a counter as Ripley re-entered the kitchen.

They obviously started to speak, but all Andy could hear was soft murmuring as Ripley got his dinner and put it in the microwave.

Watching them was kind of boring, so Andy turned her attention back to the movie for a few minutes.

An elbow dug into her ribs, and Andy looked across to Maya quizzically. Her friend nodded toward the kitchen, and Andy glanced over to see that things were no longer boring.

Andy had never seen Ripley actually be the one to kiss or touch Vic. Sure he returned any physical affection she gave him, but he never seemed to initiate it. But right now, he had a hand on the counter on either side of her and was leaning in.

And, well, this was not the light kiss they usually shared around other people. (Apart from the mistletoe hat incident, all their kisses were brief and almost embarrassed).

Nope, they went straight to full on making out. It was a little disconcerting how hot it was – they each had a hand in each other’s hair, and Andy was a little grateful she couldn’t see the Chief’s other hand. (Vic’s other hand was just roaming across his shoulders).

“They’ve fucked in that kitchen, haven’t they?” she whispered to Maya suspiciously.

Maya glanced at her, and glanced back at the couple in the kitchen.

“Totally,” she said with a half-grimace. “I don’t really want to think about where else they might have.”

Andy followed her gaze. His visible hand had migrated to her cheek, one of hers had settled on his shoulder with the other still threaded through his hair. They’d at least started out with their hips separated by some distance, but now they were fully pressed up against each other.

“Now I’m thinking we probably shouldn’t have stayed for the movie,” Maya whispered.

“We’ve had way too much to drink to drive back,” Andy pointed out. “And say we caught a cab; how were we going to get back my car? You want to call them tomorrow morning to ask if we can drop by for it?”

“I guess it’s also a little too weirdly like saying, here, go do it,” Maya agreed quietly.

“What do we do?” Andy asked as the microwave beeped.

“Pretend we’ve been watching the movie,” Maya hissed urgently, snapping her face back to the TV. Andy tilted her head till she could see in her peripheral vision that the two of them had pulled back slightly from each other; Vic’s arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her waist as she said something to him. He gave a laugh, lent in and briefly kissed her again before they disentangled.

Andy hurriedly turned her attention back to the TV as Vic hopped off the counter and re-entered the living room, sitting back down on the loveseat.

A few minutes later, Ripley joined them, sitting next to Vic and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

Andy was grateful for the cover of the movie, which made the whole situation less awkward. In fact, she’d pretty much forgotten about the whole weirdness of the Chief sitting there in his trackpants watching a movie with them until about twenty minutes in.

“I’d love some tea, Lucas,” Vic said. He chuckled, and removed his arm from around her shoulders, standing and taking his plate.

“Anyone else?” he offered.

“Green for me please, Ripley,” Maya replied. Andy shook her head.

Maybe it was a desensitisation thing, but as Ripley sat down again after delivering tea, it didn’t seem as weird for him to wrap his arm around Vic as she automatically leaned into his side.

Andy must have drifted off a little during the movie, because she woke just as the credits started to roll.

“Andy – oh, you’re awake,” Maya said, stretching.

“I think I did doze a bit,” she admitted.

“Lucas,” Vic said, poking him in the chest. “Scruffy. Luuuucas. Luke.”

He grunted, eyes fluttering open.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Vic said fondly. “Go to bed.”

He grunted again, and stood up with a groan before shambling out of the room.

“We’ve cleared out the room of requirement,” Vic said, turning to the two of them. “That’s the first door on the left upstairs, then the spare room’s the second door on the left. I’m just going to clear up.”

“I’ll help,” Andy offered, yawning.

Vic rolled her eyes.

“Go on and sleep,” Maya instructed. “I’ll help.”

“First room on the left?” Andy checked. She was pretty sure their bedroom was the second on the right (next to the main bathroom) but it still didn’t hurt to make sure. Vic nodded, and so Andy headed upstairs. Her last conscious thought was that the Ripley-Hughes household had really comfortable spare beds.

* * *

 

She woke the next morning to the smell of toast. The room of requirement had turned out to be a relatively narrow room, with a single bed along one wall and a bookshelf along the other. A desk just fit beneath the window. Andy quickly got dressed – she was nowhere near comfortable enough to be in front of the Chief in her pyjamas – and headed downstairs.

“Morning sunshine,” beamed Maya, dressed in her running gear.

“Coffee,” Andy begged. Vic grinned and started the coffee machine.

Andy glanced over at Ripley, leaning against the island eating toast in his uniform.

“What’s that?” she asked curiously, realising that it wasn’t actually burnt.

“Vegemite toast,” he replied.

“I had to stop him eating your waffles,” Vic said with a laugh, handing a mug of coffee to Andy.

“Sorry, sir,” Andy apologised reflexively. Ripley laughed.

“I’d had four already,” he admitted.

“So that’s what Vegemite is,” Maya redirected the conversation.

“It’s gross,” Vic said with a scowl, putting a plate of waffles and syrup in front of Andy.

“You want to try it?” Ripley offered.

“If that’s okay?” Maya replied.

“'Toria, can you – thanks,” he said, as Vic put another slice of bread in the toaster, and slid a large yellow jar across to him.

“Thanks for breakfast, Vic,” Andy said around a mouthful of waffles.

“Not a problem,” her friend replied as the toaster beeped.

“Now the mistake most people make in trying Vegemite,” Ripley explained, taking the piece of toast and buttering it. With a lot of butter. “Is that they put too much on. You need a lot of butter and then just the barest touch of Vegemite. Then you work your way up to a full Australian breakfast.” He indicated his own piece of toast, which was black, compared to the piece he’d just buttered for Maya which was a light brown. “Here.”

Maya took one of the halves of freshly made toast and took a bite. Her expression immediately changed, and Vic laughed as Maya swallowed.

“I told you; awful,” Vic said triumphantly.

“Bishop, you disappoint me,” Ripley heaved a good-natured sigh.

“That’s foul,” she exclaimed, taking a sip of her coffee.

“What does it taste like?” Andy asked curiously.

“Despair,” Vic muttered.

“It’s impossible to say,” Maya said, wrinkling her nose. “You try it.”

Andy eyed it warily, but gave in. She figured she had waffles to wash it down with. She took a small bite.

“Huh,” it certainly was different. But… “it’s not so bad.”

“A woman of taste, at last,” Ripley said.

“Like, I’d prefer jelly,” Andy explained, taking another bite. “But it’s really fine. What is it, anyway?”

“Concentrated yeast extract,” Maya picked up the jar and read it.

“At one point they banned the import of Vegemite,” Ripley said. “Too much yeast. It was a dark time.”

“But then all you Aussies complained?” Vic said.

“Obviously,” he replied. “It’s the food of the gods.”

“Before you ask, his entire family is like this. Must be a weird Australian thing,” Vic said to Andy and Maya. “It’s just me and the one brother-in-law who’s American too, outnumbered in the corner. Even the kids are in on it.”

“We train them young,” Ripley commented. “By the time you’re older most people lose the ability to appreciate Vegemite. Herrera’s obviously an exception.” He checked his watch. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t forget, your Mom’s moved dinner forward,” Vic reminded him. “You need to be back by five to shower.”

“Okay,” Ripley replied, leaning over the counter and quickly kissing her. “See you then.” He grabbed the last piece of his toast, saying to the other two, “have a good day.”

“You really like that?” Vic said with a look of distaste as the front door shut.

“Yeah, I do,” Andy said. “It’s like salt bread.” She paused. “You guys actually make a good couple.”

Vic snorted. “Thanks, I guess? It’s only been eighteen months.”

“No, I mean it,” Andy said. “And look, I’m sorry for not being as supportive as I maybe should’ve been.”

“Me too,” Maya chimed in unexpectedly. She looked uncomfortable. “We had a talk when we went running the other week. I think we came to an understanding.”

Vic set her cup down on the counter. “No I get how it looked. So does he. But, you know, this _works_. For both of us.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Andy said quietly. Vic beamed.

“So am I,” she said.


	15. The Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.  
> A week late, but technically this fits under week 1 of the theme week.

Deb already knew she hated him, well before he plonked himself down next to her, ignoring a call from a few rows ahead of her.

[She’d deliberately arrived early to pick a spot in the back, away from the others].

There was one in every workplace, and Seattle Fire Department was no exception. He was the golden boy, the guy who straight out of school aced the academy, got promoted in near-record speed, and despite only being a lieutenant for eighteen months was already looking at being promoted up to captain.

He was on a fast track up the ranks. Deb figured he’d be Chief by the time he was 50.

Everyone knew of him, and seemed to think he was a “great guy”. By all accounts he was the All American Poster Fireman.

Even she had to admit he was handsome, tall, with blonde curls and blue eyes and an easy smile. He flashed her that smile now, turning and offering his hand.

“Hey, I’m Lucas Ripley,” he introduced himself.

“I know,” she said, pointedly ignoring his hand. “I thought you’d be taller.”

He made a show of looking down at himself before shrugging, “must’ve shrunk in the wash. I was told you were ornery, so clearly you can’t believe everything they say.”

 “Ornery? I’m very sure that’s not what they call me,” she snorted, before continuing sarcastically, “but I’m sure your Mama raised you right.”

“She’ll be delighted someone thinks that,” Ripley replied lightly, finally dropping his hand. “So you’re from station 12?”

“Don’t you want to sit with your friends, who, you know, want to talk to you?” she asked, nodding ahead to the men in the first few rows.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I can say I’m interested in finding out about station 12,” he said, seemingly unperturbed by her attitude. “Word on the street is that that’s where the opening for Captain is.”

“It’s a fire station,” Deb replied with deadpan tone. “Like any other.”

“So you’ve worked at a few?” he asked. “I’ve been at 88 my whole time.”

“Yeah, started at 23, went to 18 then 12,” Deb abruptly snapped her mouth shut, realising he was getting her to talk.

“Is it hard switching around?” he asked. Deb shrugged. “I mean, I love my team, but I sort of think I need to you know, break off. Have a change.” For the first time the chipper tone faded and Deb glanced over and saw that he looked…sad.

She frowned, unsure how to respond. “Well, I moved from 23 because the captain was an asshole, then got promoted out of 18 to lieutenant at 12. Moving’s fine.”

He glanced at her and summoned a smile, opening his mouth to respond but got interrupted by Battalion Chief Whitford.

“All right, gentlemen,” Whitford said, raising his voice. ‘Welcome to the Incinerator.”

* * *

 

Of course she ended up in the same group as the Golden Boy. He drew the last straw. She got second.

First, she got to enjoy the pleasure of her old lieutenant from 23 ordering her ass to stay put at the entrance of the incinerator. The misogyny in that station had been absurd, and she’d spent most of her rookie year on desk duty as _women weren’t to fight fires_.

Ripley clearly hesitated. “We need to buddy up,” he objected.

Marks looked confused, pausing. “Look, the three of us can stick together.”

“No, it’s a two by two system. It always is,” Ripley stood firm.

“We’re wasting time. Take her if you really must, but then you two can look for the dummy while we get control of this fire,” Marks ordered.

“I don’t need you to stick up for me,” Deb hissed at him as they duly walked away up the fire-less left hand corridor for the dummy sweep.

“I want someone to watch my back,” Ripley said. “Benching a firefighter in a test is just stupid. And dangerous.”

It took them twenty minutes, but they finally returned to the entrance with the dummy (which had been hidden in a cupboard). It wasn’t a great time, but Marks and Kingsley had struggled to contain the fire, and it had forced her and Ripley to backtrack all the way back around to the entrance instead of just continuing along back down the right hand corridor. Clearly the building contained a giant loop.

Noting that, Deb opted not to split her team on her turn. She was initially a little worried that Marks was going to outright refuse to do what she told him, but the prospect of fighting fire was obviously too good a draw. So all four of them had the fire under control, and then they split into separate teams to sweep the building. Her time was good, and she couldn’t resist giving Marks a smug smile when she beat him by five minutes.

The third guy in their group, Kingsley, was fine. He struggled a bit – the visibility was getting bad – when it came to them finding the dummy, but he made a decent time.

Then it was Ripley’s turn. The visibility in the building was awful, they could barely see four feet in front of them.

“Stay together,” he ordered. “In this visibility, I don’t want us separating. Let’s set up a safety line.”

They dutifully all hooked onto the line. Deb hated to admit it, but he was calm and sensible, surveying the situation like a captain.

They make one sweep through the building. There’s a small blaze that was quickly extinguished with a couple of sweeps of the line, but otherwise the main issue was the lack of visibility. They didn’t find the dummy.

On the second sweep, he ordered them to extend the distance between them on the safety line, better able to cover more ground. As they moved into the second room on the right, part of the ceiling broke through.

“Evacuate,” he ordered, reaching for his radio as at the back, Kingsley turned around and headed out. “This building’s become unstable, we are evacuating.”

They exited the building, blinking against the bright sun.

“Sixteen minutes, forty seconds,” Whitford said, clicking the stopwatch, gaze narrowing at Ripley. “No dummy?”

“No, sir,” Ripley answered.

“You evacuated. Report,” Whitford ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Ripley replied, back ram-rod straight. “Poor visibility, sir, so made the decision to attach a safety line and not split the team. On initial sweep of the building, no occupants found. One small blaze extinguished. Given the poor visibility, made the decision for a second sweep, however on entering the second chamber, the roof was unstable and collapsed. In a real life situation, sir, we have a unstable structure with no occupants identified inside and poor visibility. I would not be continuing to look through until we were able to ascertain what parts of the building were safe. There’s no active fire identified, so we can take some time.”

“Let’s go to your ‘real-life situation’,” Whitford said. “Say someone told you there was a person in the building.”

“If they could tell me where in the building they were last seen, I’d consider launching a targeted rescue directly to that location,” Ripley replied.

“So you’d enter via a window if it was an outer room?” Ripley nodded. Whitford shook his head slightly, and held out his hand. “It’s Ripley, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Ripley took the offered hand. Deb could hear the surprise in his voice.

“There was no dummy,” Whitford said. “You’re the first person since we introduced this variation of the test two years ago to pull their own team out. You did it with solid reasoning and a good time. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ripley sounded composed, but a flush crept up his neck. Murmurs started up around them.

“Congrats, man,” Kingsley said amiably, pounding Ripley on the back.

Marks said nothing.

A few other firemen came over, all proffering Ripley congratulations which he accepted gracefully and – Deb was irritated to note – with humble good humour.

“Still the interviews to go, guys,” he said cheerfully, as he packed away his kit.

“You coming out for drinks tonight, Rip?” asked a lieutenant Deb didn’t know. “We’re all going to Joe’s.”

“Nah,” Ripley said. “I’ve been so busy studying for these exams, I’ve been neglecting my poor wife. Gonna go home early and surprise her.” There were a few jeers to that, but Ripley simply smiled patiently and turned back to his gear. When he was done, he turned to Deb.

“Good luck, Frankel,” he said.

Deb offered her hand to shake. “You too, Ripley.”

* * *

 

So it didn’t come as a surprise to hear Ripley announced as the new captain for station 12 a couple of months later. Deb would’ve preferred she get the position, obviously, but figured that the Golden Boy at least seemed nice enough (particularly compared to some of the others).

She was out for drinks when she saw him sitting at the bar.

“What’s up?” asked her date, noticing the way Deb’s eyes kept going to the bar.

“That’s my new Captain,” Deb replied. “Look, just give me a minute?” Her date didn’t look particularly happy about it, but nodded.

“Congratulations are in order, I hear,” Deb said, sliding into the space next to Ripley.

“Oh, thanks,” he said. She raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t seem as excited as I would’ve thought,” she observed. “And drinking alone after the news today?”

He smiled wryly down at the bar.

“Well, actually,” he said. “It’s been a bit of a day. Got the news about the promotion, and signed my divorce papers.”

“Ah,” Deb felt slightly awkward. “Going home early after the Incinerator didn’t help, hey?”

He winced. “Well, I got home to find her in bed with the real estate agent, so I guess it was too little too late.”

Deb couldn’t help but laugh a little, and he stiffened, shooting her an offended glance.

“Sorry, it’s not funny at all,” she apologised quickly. “Just nice to know that you’re not perfect, Golden Boy.”

“Far from it,” he sighed heavily, draining his drink and signalling for another. Deb slid a fiver over the bar before he could.

“Don’t worry, you’re not my type,” she assured him. “For what it’s worth, while I still think them overlooking me is a symptom of the rampant misogyny in this profession, I’m glad I’m getting stuck with you and not someone worse.”

He actually smiled at that. “Thanks, I think.” He lifted the drink to her and took a sip. “You better get back to your date, though, she’s starting to look antsy.”

Deb froze, heart suddenly hammering. “I-”

Ripley looked a little confused at the expression on her face.

“How did you know?” she cleared her throat.

“I just…I saw you two together when I came in and …” he paused, looking at her intently. “You know, I couldn’t give a damn what team you’re on.”

“Nobody else –” Deb started to say.

“Between you and me,” he said immediately. “Frankel, honestly, I didn’t mean to spook you. It’s entirely your business and I don’t care.”

“Thanks,” adding after a moment’s thought, “Captain.”

The worst thing, she decided much later back at home as she cuddled up to her date, the worst thing was that you couldn’t even hate the Golden Boy because he was so damned nice.


	16. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.  
> Boundaries. Or rather, Vic ignoring all of them.

“ _No_ ,” Lucas said, stopping dead as he walked into the engine room of station 19. The effect was ruined by the fact that nobody was likely to hear him with his helmet on, so he unbuckled and removed it, repeating himself, “ _no_.”

His girlfriend ignored his stern tone, that had historically had junior firefighters running for cover. Instead she gave him a broad smile, deliberately looking as cute as she could.

Which was pretty damn cute. Unfortunately for him.

“Lucas,” she said.

Lucas could hear her team sniggering.

“Don’t you dare –” he interrupted.

“Please,” she said with an innocent smile, and then she _batted her eyelashes at him_.

“How did you even get the dog?” Lucas asked with a sigh, looking down at the mournful looking dog which had started to sniff at his boots. Its puppy dog eyes were almost as bad as Vic’s. He automatically reached out to scratch her ears.

“There was a fire at an animal shelter,” she explained. “They had let all the animals out so mostly we just had to round them up; the fire was just in the tea room from a malfunctioning toaster.”

“And then you decided you wanted a dog?” he asked, somewhat plaintively.

“Look at her eyes, Lucas,” Vic urged. “And see, she likes you already!”

Lucas looked down, acknowledging the puppy eyes, and saw that her tail was starting to wag. The dog hopped up onto his pants.

“These are expensive riding pants,” he said with a sigh, sinking down into a squat to the dog’s level. She licked his face a couple of times enthusiastically, then moved to lick his helmet. Vic quickly took it off him.

And motorcycle pants weren’t really comfortable to squat in so he gave up and just sat on the ground. The dog nosed closer, tail wagging excitedly, as he continued to pat her.

“She’s a beagle,” Vic said unnecessarily. “They think she’s about eight years old. She was rescued from a mill where she was a breeder. It’s a good breed for kids, she’s been friendly and placid at the shelter. They didn’t give her a name!”

“What?” Lucas looked up from the dog. “Are you serious?!”

She didn’t seem like she was adding that detail on.

He looked back down at the dog, who had rolled over between his legs to expose her belly.

“Oooh look at you, you big sook,” he said, hating the fact that he was automatically going into a baby voice. “What are we going to call her then?” he asked begrudgingly.

“Yes!” Vic punched the air and he looked up and rolled his eyes at her.

“Please, Victoria, you already bought the damn dog,” Lucas accused. “At least – you did buy her right?”

She laughed. “Yes, don’t worry,” she assured him. “And the rescue shelter named her Lucy.”

Lucas threw his head back and laughed, startling the dog.

“I’m sorry girl, I’m sorry,” he crooned at the dog. “That’s what sold you, right?”

Vic giggled. “Yep. This way, when you yell Lu-ucy I’m ho-ome…”

He sighed and got to his feet.

“How’m I supposed to get her home,” he said, gesturing to himself.

“I thought you’d go home first, not turn up here on the bike,” Vic said with a wince.

“Well, I thought something had happened when you asked me to come by the station, not that you’d decided to adopt a walking carpet,” Lucas said.

“I said everything was fine,” Vic said, eyebrows furrowing.

“No, you said on the phone ‘can you come to the station please’, so I did,” he said. He didn’t have to say how his heart had hammered the whole way, and how he was glad no one had tried to pull him over because he might not have stopped.

“Sorry, Lucas,” she said, genuinely contritely, squeezing his arm, before giving him another grin. “You’re my favourite person!”

He rolled his eyes fondly at her. “You can stop flirting with me, I’ve already agreed to take the damn dog,” he said. “Not that you gave me much of a choice.”

“Don’t listen to him, Lucy,” Vic said to the dog. “He loves you already.”

She looked back at him for a moment, then snapped her fingers.

“Leave the bike here, take my car. Is the spare helmet still in the pannier?” she asked.

A few months ago, his incredibly hot girlfriend had turned out to be even hotter than he realised. She had a motorcycle licence too – but not a motorcycle as she’d never ended up replacing her old one that had broken down. (She’d said she enjoyed riding, but hated riding alone).

So, now, they had two motorcycles. They’d kept her old helmet as a spare – she’d wanted a new one – and he’d put it in his pannier. (Her bike didn’t have panniers; she wanted a pure sports bike and had argued that they could put everything they’d need on his).

“Yeah, I never take it out,” he said. “Okay, you bring my bike home, and I’ll take the car.”

“I’ll just grab the keys,” she said.

“Hang on, take my jacket,” he said, shrugging it off after pulling his wallet out of the inside pocket. “It might be too big, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Okay. You take your helmet home,” she said, and they swapped helmet and leash for jacket. She disappeared in the direction of their locker room. He looked up for the first time at the team.

“None of you stopped this?” he asked somewhat wearily and desperately. Sullivan simply laughed.

“Hey, man, _your_ girlfriend had the dog in the damned aid car without me realising until we got back,” he said. “And then, you know, I figured it could be your problem.”

“Thanks for your support, Sully, I really appreciate it,” he said sarcastically.

“I did tell her one dog might be enough,” Montgomery was doing a crap job of hiding his amusement, and Lucas narrowed his eyes at him.

“At least it’s not a cat,” Sully offered, still laughing at him.

Lucas glared at him again, without any seeming effect.

“I’m going to have to fence off the yard,” he said with a groan. “Or maybe just put a gate across the side?”

“So you’ll need to make a trip to the pet store _and_ the hardware store,” Miller piped up with a grin. Lucas glared at him, pleased to see that the other man subsided a little.

At least he hadn’t lost all his aura of terrifying-ness.

"In retrospect we clearly didn't need to worry about you taking advantage of Vic," an amused Herrera said. 

Okay, so look, he probably had lost that aura.

"Nobody gave her a name," he tried in his defence, giving the dog another scratch behind the ears as she pressed against his legs.

“Here,” Vic re-entered the room, holding a whole bunch of towels in one hand and her keys in the other.

“You’re stealing towels from the SFD now?” he said pointedly.

“No, darling, technically you will be,” she said with a grin. “Unless you’d like to risk having to clean the backseat?”

He sighed. “This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend,” he complained, as they headed out to the carpark. She unlocked her car and laid the towels out on the back seat before putting Lucy in while he put his helmet in the front seat.

“You are my favourite person, and I love you,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he accused, but met her lips anyway. He handed her his keys. “I just parked the bike right out front.”

“I’ll move it into my spot when you’re out,” she assured him. “See you two tomorrow.” She kissed him again, before he got into the car.

* * *

 

“Hughes,” Sullivan called as Vic re-entered the station after moving Lucas’ bike into her spot.

She detoured into his office.

“Don’t ever bring an animal in the aid car again,” he chided. “Make him pick the damn thing up from the scene.”

“Yes, Captain,” Vic was about to turn to go, when he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Uh, Hughes,” he said. “That comment you made about kids; if the two of you are … you know…let me know and I’ll make sure you’re rostered somewhere appropriate –”

Vic looked at him blankly before it clicked.

“No,” she exclaimed. “Oh, no, no. I was talking about his nieces and nephews.”

Sullivan looked immediately relieved. “I thought that was what you meant but as your captain I just had to be sure because I wouldn’t want … I mean, smoke can be harmful …”

“No, no, it’s all hypothetical right now,” Vic babbled. “Like, we only moved in together a little while ago. I’m still on the pill –”

“WAY too much information,” Sullivan interrupted almost desperately. “You can go, just let me know if the situation changes.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Captain.” She snapped her mouth closed before she could do any more damage and headed out of his office.

“Damn he’s hot,” Travis said appreciatively as Vic headed back into help clean the engine.

“I know, right,” she smirked. It was really the only reason she’d started riding bikes again, and why she’d bought a bike to go with his.

There was nothing hotter than Lucas Ripley after a motorcycle ride. His hair stood up in fluffy waves, his shirt always clung to him with his own sweat, his ass looked good in his motorcycle pants, and the best thing was; he had no idea how good he looked. And he was hers.

“Well we know what to do next time we need extra funding,” Gibson joked. “We just need you to bat your eyelashes at him.”

Vic grinned easily – from anyone else, she’d have taken offence, but Gibson had known the entire time and had been really great about it. “Please, I save that power for important things. Like getting a dog…”

“Getting him to fall into bed with you in the first place,” Travis accused.

She couldn’t help but smile smugly at him in return.

"I will say it took a little more than that," she said, mostly because she knew it would make them all squirm.

"Ew, do we have to talk about what you did  _on my birthday_?" Dean demanded. 

"It was the birthday before last," she said, rolling her eyes at him.

"Although, I guess it's their anniversary now," Andy waggled her eyebrows at Dean, and Vic laughed as he pretended to gag.

"So is that why you've been on aid car for the last few shifts?" Warren asked quietly, sidling up to her.

If it hadn't been for the conversation with Sullivan, Vic would've been lost.

"Okay, let's get this clear so there are no rumours," she said loudly. "I am  _not_ pregnant. When I said that it was a good breed for kids, I was talking about his nieces and nephews, because we're baby-sitting two of them tomorrow night while his sister and brother-in-law have a date night."

"Right. Definitely has nothing to do with any future plans to make beautiful, mocha babies -" Travis started to tease.

Vic threw a sponge at him.

* * *

 

The text message thread she shares with Lucas quickly becomes just a stream of photos of Lucy.

 _She wanted all the toys_ – a photo of her sitting in a trolley at the pet shop with far too many toys, a pet bed, and several bags of dog food.

 _She’s scared of the dog-gates_ – a photo of Lucy looking concerned sitting next to an open child-gate.

 _Your dog did not enjoy bath time_ – a terrible and blurry selfie of him covered in soapy water holding a scraggly and miserable looking dog.

 _Your damn dog got into the laundry_ – her phone pinged at dinner, and she laughed out loud at the photo attached which shows their dog sitting on top of a pile of laundry like it was a throne.

_(Why did you leave her alone?_

_I had to shower at some point, Victoria)._

_Here’s your dog, chewing at electrical cables_ – with a photo of a guilty looking Lucy with an extension cord in her mouth.

 _Your dog drools_ – a photo of the dog fast asleep on the couch, drooling right onto Lucas’ legs.

 _She is_ not _coming in our room no matter how much she whines_.

Fifteen minutes later;

_Maybe just tonight; it’s a new environment and she sounds scared._


	17. Open House II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.
> 
> These two are just short pieces about nothing, the other side of the coin as it were to the Maya/Andy chapter earlier.

It’s awkward. It’s been a couple of weeks since they told him they were seeing each other, and he’s ducked Luke’s offers to come over and watch the game or go for drinks. It’s stagnated their redeveloping friendship, but Robert doesn’t really feel it’s his fault. After all, he's not the guy dating a subordinate.

So here he is, sitting next to his boss’ boss (and best friend’s) girlfriend. A girl who must have been barely in school when he and Rip became firefighters. She’s so junior, they’ve got at least three or four years before she’s even eligible for promotion.

He was a little worried she’d just babble the entire way, but she’s actually quiet on the way to the call.

It’s a local school. A kid has fallen over playing tag, and Robert doesn’t need an X-Ray to see that the ankle’s clearly broken.

“Hey, I’m Vic,” she says easily with a big grin. “You’re having a bad day! This is Captain Sullivan, don’t worry, he’s not quite as scary as he looks.”

The kid gives him an uneasy glance.

“I’m Caleb,” the kid replies through his tears. He’s a nerdy scrawny bespeckled kid, and Robert can’t help but wonder if he was voluntarily playing tag.

“Okay, Caleb,” Hughes says. “Are you allergic to anything? No, good, here’s some medicine that goes up your nose for the pain. It tickles a bit in your nose but it will make your ankle feel a lot better.”

The kid obediently sniffs and Robert can see him start to relax as it works. They quickly splint the ankle.

“Is my foot broken?” he asks plaintively.

“Looks like it,” Hughes answers honestly with a sympathetic grimace. “Sorry, Caleb.”

He sighs, and closes his eyes tightly. Robert and Hughes carefully roll him onto the gurney, and start to move him to the aid car. The school nurse reports that his mother will meet them at the hospital, and climbs into the car with them.

“So, Caleb, what do you like to do?” Hughes asks, trying to distract the kid from his pain as Robert starts to drive.

“Uh, I’m a bit of a nerd,” the boy confesses.

“Nerds rule the world,” Hughes tells him firmly. “Are you a theatre nerd, a band nerd, a reading nerd…?”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it,” Caleb sighs. “Well, I’m in band.”

“What instrument do you play?” Hughes asks.

“Cello. And I’m in choir,” the boy’s clearly grasping at the opportunity to talk and distract himself.

“Wow. I never got the hang of playing anything except Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the piano – never had the attention span to practice,” Hughes tells him. “But I was in choir too, so I can sing a bit. What are you singing right now in choir?”

Robert doesn’t know the song, but Hughes gets the kid to start to sing it, and then she joins in. He’s taken aback; she has a beautiful singing voice.

And a little piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

Luke’s the kind of guy who would constantly sing or whistle under his breath. He can imagine the two of them singing around the house.

This is the first time Sullivan’s really paid attention to Hughes – he’s had his hands full trying to contain the mess that is the Gibson, Herrera, and Bishop dynamic. He’s glad to find she’s competent. He can’t fault her manner with the kid, who’s clearly responded well to her.

They drop Caleb off at the hospital, his anxious mom greeting him as soon as he rolls in the door. They detour a bit to give the school nurse a lift back (a courtesy Sullivan offers where he can).

Then they’re driving back to the station. It’s not in silence; Hughes is humming the choir song absently.

“I gotta ask, why?” he says abruptly, without really meaning to, and regrets it immediately. It’s none of his damn business.

Hughes blushes. “I really like him. He’s sweet and funny and clever,” she says after a moment.

Robert sighs.

“And he’s really, really hot,” Hughes says after another moment, slanting a glance at him. He grimaces reflexively and she laughs at him.

“I want to be his friend again,” Robert admits quietly, looking out the window.

“He considers you his best friend,” Hughes says. “So you don’t actually really have to do anything. Maybe watch sports with him so I don’t have to.”

Robert can’t help a chuckle.

“Not a sports fan?”

“Look, I like basketball. I’m quite fond of watching a bit – and I mean a bit – of baseball. I’m happy to have the NFL on in the background. But he watches all the sports. Soccer, ice hockey, football – not NFL as much as weird Australian games where there seem to be no rules at all – and worst of all, cricket.”

“It’s not a sport!”

“Right!” they share a small smile.

They pull up back in the station and Hughes hops out, automatically starting a check and restock. Robert has to admit he has noticed that she just keeps doing the work (in a light Hughes-y way) and has never seemed to think to look for special treatment.

“You’re okay, Hughes,” he says quietly and abruptly, before stalking back to his office without waiting for a reply.

 

* * *

 

Of _course_ the first time someone would be at the front door after Vic had moved in would be a time that Lucas wasn’t there. He’d gone for an emergency run to the shop while Vic started on the part of the dinner that she actually could make.

[Somehow, they’d run out of pasta without realising it].

The doorbell rang again, and Vic swore, carefully balancing the spoon on a plate before heading out to the door. She opened it, only to see Frankel.

Dressed in civilian clothes.

Looking distinctly un-Frankel-ish with her hair out.

“Ma’am,” Vic said reflexively, unable to hide her surprise.

“Hughes,” Frankel looked uncomfortable. “Sorry, I didn’t – I forgot –”

“Come in,” Vic interrupted, reminding herself that they had an open house policy to each other’s friends.

She wasn’t entirely sure Lucas would class Frankel as a friend, exactly. They had an odd relationship; Lucas clearly supported and valued the hell out of Frankel, but Vic wasn’t entirely sure that he liked her a lot of the time.

Bit like Gibson and Bishop, really.

“I was hoping to speak to Ripley,” Frankel said, hovering on the threshold. Vic turned back towards her.

“He just had to go to the shops,” Vic explained. “He’ll be back soon.”

“It’s not important – I can come back,” Frankel jerks her thumb towards the door.

“Don’t be silly, he won’t be long,” Vic said briskly, determined to power through the awkward situation. (Hey, if she and Lucas could manage Herrera and Bishop wandering by, and Gibson knowing; then she could handle Frankel. Who already knew). “Come in. Can I get you a drink?”

She saw the moment Frankel gave up; the other woman sighed, and took her shoes off in the entranceway.

“I can do tea, coffee, wine – although I think we only have white at the moment – beer, cider, and of course, scotch,” Vic listed, opening Lucas’ – _their_ – drinks cabinet. “Oh and vodka. And whiskey. And bourbon.”

She paused for a moment, glancing at Frankel. “We honestly don’t drink _that_ much. I think it’s just because we’ve only just combined our alcohol collections that it looks worse than it is?”

Frankel gave a surprised bark of laughter. “Well, if Rip still has that excellent scotch I wouldn’t say no.”

Vic pulled out the bottle, and at Frankel’s nod, grabbed a glass.

“What is the difference between whiskey, scotch, and bourbon anyway?” Vic asked idly as she poured a measure of scotch out. “Ice?”

“Please,” Frankel replied, before launching into a description of the differences between the three types of liquor.

(It doesn’t really help; as far as Vic’s concerned they’re basically the same thing). But it did distract her boss enough to let Frankel relax a fraction given the context. The scotch seemed to help too.

Lucas walked through the door a few minutes later, to Vic’s relief.

“Deb,” he was clearly surprised to see her. He frowned. “Everything okay?”

Vic heard a sharp intake of breath, and realised Frankel sounded on the verge of tears. She immediately turned away to the stove, grabbed her phone, and started playing music through it.

“Lucas, why don’t you two go and talk in the lounge,” she told him. “I’ll finish dinner.”

She turned the music up as the two of them headed to the lounge, trying desperately to signal that she wasn’t listening.

Vic breathed a sigh of relief as Lucas re-entered the kitchen. She’d taken as long to cook pasta as had seemed feasible.

“She’ll stay for dinner if that’s okay?” Lucas half-asked.

“Of course, open house,” Vic assured him, draining the pasta. “Set the table?”

He did so quickly, and Vic pretended not to notice that Frankel’s eyes are still red as she exited their downstairs bathroom.

“Sorry, nothing fancy,” Vic apologised as she served up the pasta into three bowls.

“No, thank you for the meal,” Frankel’s a little stilted. “Particularly on short notice.”

“Any time,” Vic said, surprised to find herself meaning it. She didn’t really have an opinion on Frankel, but Lucas' obvious respect and like for her is enough for Vic.

Vic had to admire Lucas' skills as a conversationalist again. He directed the conversation to basketball, which he knew Vic liked, and apparently Frankel played ball in college. So they spent dinner talking about basketball and Frankel's brief stint in college (she dropped out to join the academy). 

At the end of the meal, Vic cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen, before heading upstairs while Frankel and Lucas talked quietly in the lounge. She had just finished a chapter when their bedroom door opened and Lucas stepped in.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "I know Deb appreciated the meal and you being so..."

"Awesome?" Vic offered when he fumbled for a word. Lucas grinned at her.

"Sure," he said.

There's a pause.

"I don't know what that was about and I don't want to know," Vic said, sensing Lucas was trying to work out what to tell her. "I figure what happens at home stays at home. I'm not going to tell people she was around. They wouldn't believe me for starters."

He smiled fondly at her, and sat down next to her on their bed.

"I love you," he said, briefly leaning in and kissing her. "Thanks. I appreciate it on her behalf."


	18. Aussie Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write because it's so visual! I hope the descriptions translate across anyway. :)
> 
> Basically, Vic joins Lucas on the semi-regular family trip to Australia. His brother, three sisters, and their families (about twenty people) all go to visit his Mum's side of the family (the Marshalls) every 3-5 years. The Marshalls are his Mum's brother's family (there's about fifteen of them).

“You seem … stressed?” Travis quirked an eyebrow at Vic as she bustled in for breakfast.

“I have never been overseas,” she hissed. “Hell, I’ve been on two planes in my LIFE. It’s like 20 hours, in a plane, with a six hour layover, and so it’s more like two planes to get there. And we’re going in the middle of summer where it’s like 100 degrees. And Lucas’ mom was telling me about their quarantine rules in Australia? It’s insane! You have to declare a piece of fruit. Like apples. They don't let you take them in!”

“Oh-kay,” at this point, Vic’s face was about three inches from Travis’ and he put his hand on her shoulder. “Steady. It’ll be fine.”

“An apple,” she repeated. “I can’t take an apple into Australia or they lock you up!”

“Shouldn’t a holiday be relaxing?” Ben asked in alarm.

“I’ve just double-checked their quarantine rules. No soil products on your shoes?! Have you been in fresh water? Does rain water count? No wooden objects!”

“Hughes,” Sullivan walked in. “I could hear you from downstairs. As you know, I make it a point to try to never ever ever be anywhere near involved in hearing about your private life from you or from Ripley but in this case, I just have to say, settle down. It’s fine. Lucas does this trip every few years, he still uses his Australian passport, he will make sure you don’t get arrested over an apple.”

“Yes, sir,” Vic took a deep breath. “Will try to stay calm.” There was a brief pause. “Have you ever been to Australia?”

“No,” Sullivan said slowly.

“There are spiders and snakes that can kill you just by looking at you,” she said, a little too fervently. Travis couldn’t help but giggle. “Stop laughing, Travis! And there’s a type of koala bear, called a drop bear, which drops out of trees and eats people’s faces!”

At that Sullivan laughed. “Who told you that one?”

“His nephew,” she replied. “Why?”

“Hang on a minute,” he said, pulling out his phone and dialling a number.

“Hey, man, I’m just gonna put you on speaker, cos we need to clear something up,” he said, before doing so. “Rip, what are drop bears?”

Travis could hear him laughing over the phone.

“Oh no, Vic, who told you that one?” his voice was distorted.

“Callum?” she replied.

“Victoria, drop bears are completely fictional and Callum was messing with you,” he assured her.

“But the tiny spiders that live under toilet seats are real? And jellyfish you can’t see that can kill you!? And the fact that Australia has five out of ten of the world’s most venomous snakes?” Vic started listing.

“Woah, woah,” Travis can hear Ripley restraining laughter. “Honey, don’t google anything more. The spiders are fine. The jellyfish…look, that’s only a problem in Queensland and we’ll only be there a couple of days. Snakes are easy enough to manage with a shovel.”

“You can kill the snakes?”

“I will kill the snakes,” he assured her, unable to hold back laughter. “Although given we’ll be in Melbourne most of the time, you probably won’t see any.”

“Okay, now can you tell her to get her head back into work and off the holiday that she doesn’t leave for until tomorrow?” Sullivan asked, sounding unimpressed, but with a slight smirk to the corner of his mouth.

“Victoria, it will be fine. We will not miss the plane. Airport security is fine. I’ll double check you’re not breaking quarantine laws tonight by going through your suitcase. I will defend you from spiders and snakes and jellyfish.”

“And sharks?”

“And sharks. And Callum’s stupid pranks. It’ll be fun, now stop being neurotic and go to work,” he said fondly. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Rip,” Sullivan said, clicking it off speaker and raising the phone to his ear. “Please, feel free to call her tonight to let her vent her neuroses outside work.” He hung up, and leveled a pointed nod at Hughes. “Okay. You good?”

“Yes sir,” Vic looked a little abashed.

His expression softened. “Rip got me with the drop bear thing first time we met,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“In retrospect the Vegemite thing should have probably alerted me, right?” Vic said, a little ruefully.

“Yeah but that stuff’s so disgusting it makes sense it would repel an animal,” Sullivan said, waving his hand in a so-so manner. His amusement faded and he fixed Vic with a Look. “Okay, head in the game, Vic?”

“Thanks,” Vic replied seriously.

Travis watched the interaction with interest. Sullivan seemed to be at ease talking to Ripley whenever there was a team even that Ripley showed up to, but at work, he was never anything more than completely professional with Vic, and she was meticulous in calling him captain and sir.  So this was unusual.

Fortunately the shift was busy enough that talk of snakes and spiders and sharks and apparently venomous jellyfish was put off until the next morning. Vic was slowly going greener over the table as everyone shared the facts they had.

“There’s this list I found,” Andy said excitedly. “Of things in Australia that can kill you. Have you heard of stonefish?”

“We are mostly going to be in Melbourne,” a voice interrupted calmly. “No stonefish in Melbourne; they're in the tropics. Will you all stop freaking her out? The plane tickets aren’t refundable and we leave in a few hours.”

They all turned to see Ripley, dressed casually in jeans and a grey sweater, holding Lucy’s leash.

“Hi Chief,” everyone except Vic and Sully chorused.

“Hi baby girl,” Sullivan said instead, and Lucy pulled away from Ripley, heading straight for Sullivan who immediately bent down and started scratching her ears. “How’s my best girl. Yes. Yes you are.”

“Can I just say that I’m the one going to a potentially deadly country and yet all she wants to do is lick Sullivan?” Vic complained, looking only slightly mollified as Lucy, tail wagging, broke away from Sullivan and headed to her. “Hi my girl.”

“How was the shift?” Ripley asked, sitting down with a plate of toast and eggs.

“Busy,” chorused Travis and Herrera.

“Hang on, do we have time –”

“Plenty of time. We don’t have to be at the airport for ninety minutes,” Ripley interrupted patiently. “I can eat breakfast, you can finish breakfast.”

“Do we have everything?” Vic demanded around a mouthful of eggs.

“Your passport,” Ripley swallowed. “My passport. My wallet. Your wallet’s here. My half empty suitcase. Your suitcase with five more pairs of shoes than you will wear. Your carry on. My carry on. Yes, I found your headphones and put them in your bag.”

“I don’t have five more pairs of shoes than I will wear!” Vic objected, looking to the table for support. “I have one pair of runners, one pair of boots, one pair of sandals, a pair of nice boots, and one pair of heels!”

“Bare necessities,” Andy agreed.

Ripley laughed. “It’s Australia. In the middle of summer. All you need are a pair of thon – flip flops. Flip flops and bare feet. That’s the bare necessities, and then a pair of runners in case you want to be fancy.”

“You nearly said thongs, didn’t you?” Vic teased.

Ripley rolled his eyes. “It’s what they’re called,” he objected. "Don't be immature."

“Also, I feel you gave me contradictory advice. You said it’s better to overprepare than not, then turned around and said I’d overpacked!” Vic complained.

“It’s Australia. In summer,” Ripley repeated patiently. “Seriously, it’ll be at least 100 degrees every day. All you need is a couple of pairs of shorts, bathers, some singlets or light shirts, a hat, sunnies, and flip flops. You know, all Chris – my brother – all he packs is one pair of boardies, one singlet, and his akubra.”

“Nobody has any idea what you said in the last sentence, Ripley,” Travis interjected.

“Boardies are board shorts. Akubra’s a type of hat,” the other man explained.

“Do the sentence,” Vic urged. He looked confused. “The confusing sentence.”

“Oh,” his accent audibly shifted. “So me and Dazza are garn on smoko to the servo for some durries you wannus to bring some Maccas or what?”

“Most of that wasn’t words,” Miller objected.

“It’s Australian,” Vic said proudly. “He said that he and Dazza which is short for…?”

“Darren, usually.”

“He and Darren are going on their smoking break to the gas station for some cigarettes and do you want them to bring you back McDonalds?”

Herrera shook her head.

“It’s cos of the flies,” Ripley said, chewing. He nodded at all the looks thrown his way. “Honestly. The Aussie accent is easy. You just have to not move your mouth.”

“While you talk?” Travis checked dubiously.

“Yeah. Imagine there’s a million flies trying to fly into your mouth and you don’t want that to happen.”

Travis was embarrassed to say that he tried it. And it really didn’t work. He took solace in the fact that Miller sounded even more ridiculous trying to do the accent. He suspected Ripley was having them on with the way the older man smirked in the corner at them.

Ripley’s phone started to beep, and he glanced over at Vic and Travis.

“That’s our alarm,” he said, grabbing his and Vic’s plates.

“I’ll just grab my bag,” Vic replied, jumping up and heading downstairs.

“I’ll be like, two minutes,” Travis promised. Ripley put their dishes into the dishwasher and nodded, heading downstairs himself.

As soon as Ripley disappeared, Travis leant into the group.

“Ten on him proposing,” Miller said immediately.

“Ten on _her_ proposing,” Travis countered.

Warren and Herrera immediately put money with Miller, while Gibson put money with Travis.

“Twenty on neither of them proposing,” Sullivan said unexpectedly.

Everyone turned to him, eyes narrowing.

“If you have insider knowledge,” Herrera said, almost warningly.

“No insider knowledge,” Sullivan replied, rolling his eyes. “I just know _him_.” He paused. “Am I really the only one that thinks they’re not coming back from this holiday engaged?!”

Travis looked around the table, and everyone nodded. “Yep. Anyway, I’d better go.”

“You and Grant better take good care of that dog,” Sullivan warned.

“We will. I’ll give you updates,” Travis promised, racing downstairs.

He and Grant had agreed to house-sit for them and look after Lucy. And really, it was mainly Grant who would be doing that as Travis’ twenty-four hour shifts meant he’d not see her for long stretches of time.

“Oh, it’s Vic’s car,” Travis couldn’t hide his disappointment as he got downstairs. Ripley was already in the driver’s seat, while Vic was herding Lucy into the back.

“You didn’t think you were going to get to drive my car?” Ripley laughed. Travis shrugged a bit sheepishly. He _had_ kind of hoped he’d get to drive the Chief’s car. “Sorry, Montgomery. That’s a work vehicle, and it’s at HQ for Reynolds to use while he’s acting Chief.”

“Take the front, Travis,” Vic ordered, hopping into the backseat. “Lucy and I need to cuddle.”

The entire drive to the airport was taken up by Vic giving Travis (largely unnecessary) instructions on the proper care and maintenance of her favourite beagle. Ripley merely listened in amused silence.

They got to the airport and unloaded their stuff.

“Okay,” Travis said, unexpectedly finding himself feeling a bit teary as he enveloped Vic in a hug. “Be safe. Watch out for drop bears.”

“Thanks Travis,” Vic snuffled into his shoulder. “Look after Lucy for me. Text or use messenger if there are any issues.”

“We’re only going for two weeks,” Ripley said, amused, as the two of them released each other.

Travis impulsively stepped forward and gave the taller man a quick hug. Ripley stiffened initially, but then relaxed and returned it.

“Protect her from sharks and snakes and spiders and whatever else your country has that might kill her,” Travis hissed in his ear.

“I will protect her with my life,” Ripley said in a bored but amused tone of voice.

“Okay,” Travis stood and waved them off from the drop-off zone. He hopped back into Vic’s car, adjusted the seat and the mirrors, and glanced back at Lucy. “It’s just you and me now, girl.”

* * *

 

“Any word from Vic?” Maya asked the next morning at breakfast, having immediately joined the pool to put ten on Vic proposing.

“She texted when she landed,” Travis reported. “All she said was that it was boiling, and she immediately just bought a pair of flip-flops which he found hilarious.”

“How is Lucy managing?” Andy asked, nodding at the dog who was snoozing beneath Travis’ café chair. “She looks not too badly traumatised?”

“She was pretty upset last night,” Travis admitted. “She’s used to Vic being away for periods, but usually Ripley’s there every night for her. We had to let her sleep with us to get her to shut up.”

Maya chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that that’s what happens when Vic’s not there, but Ripley just pretends he keeps the dog downstairs.”

Travis laughed. “I’m convinced that’s what happens.”

* * *

 

Travis wasn’t concerned that he hadn’t heard from Vic over the next couple of days. She was overseas, on the other side of the world.

He headed up to lunch, humming, to find Andy staring at her phone with her eyebrows raised. So raised, Travis was worried they were about to jump off her forehead. Gibson was peering over her shoulder, jaw open.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Check. Your. Facebook,” she ordered breathlessly. “Gibson, use your own damn phone!”

Travis was confused, but obediently pulled out his phone and opened it up.

“I guess the social media ban is over?” he said after a long pause.

“Yeah,” Andy said. “Wow.”

“What’s going on?” asked Miller and Warren as they trooped up the stairs as well.

“Facebook,” Andy told Miller. Warren didn’t have Facebook, so Travis beckoned him next to her.

Vic had been tagged in an enormous album called, “Marshall-Ripley-Harris-Johnson-Douglas Australian Christmas” by a Julie Ripley.

“Did we know they were going with his – I mean, this must be his entire family?” Andy asked.

“That’s why Grant and I are house-sitting,” Travis said, flicking through photos.

“I mean, did that family get all the photogenic genes or what?” Andy asked, impressed.

“But this does blow their social media cover,” Dean pointed out.

There was not a single photo of Ripley on Vic’s Facebook or on her Instagram. There weren’t really even any photos that hinted as to the existence of a boyfriend. Vic mainly used her social media to post pictures of her food and (on Instagram) her dog. Her relationship status was not displayed, and she never mentioned having a boyfriend publicly (although it was probably pretty clear she did have one).

And here was a member of Ripley’s family – Travis was pretty sure it was his mom – tagging her in a bunch of photos with him. Starting with the plane ride, and a series of cute photos that clearly told the story.

 _Excited to be off! Maddie with Uncle Lucas and Aunty Vic_  was the caption to a photo of a cute preteen girl with curly blonde hair leaning into Vic who was sitting in between her and Ripley on the plane. All three of them were grinning cheesily and giving the photographer two thumbs up. The family resemblance between Ripley and the girl was obvious, and Travis went to picture number two:

 _Over it_ which showed the same three people, now deliberately looking as miserable as possible all giving two thumbs down to the photographer, which was followed by

 _Decided to sleep through it_.

“Aww,” Warren exclaimed next to him at that photo. The little girl had fallen asleep burrowed into Vic’s side (Vic’s arm was around her) while in turn, Vic had fallen asleep on Ripley’s shoulder (he had his arm around her) and Ripley’s head was resting on top of Vic’s.

“It’s almost obnoxious,” Andy agreed. “And holy cow, all of these like, sixty photos, are just them on the plane.”

“It was like a twenty five hour trip right?” Warren said.

“Yeah, but still,” Andy replied. “And how many Ripleys are there?! Vic’s only in like four photos because there’s so many of them.”

“Rip’s got three sisters and a brother,” Sullivan replied, coming up behind them. Despite the years that they’d worked together, and the hundreds of times Sullivan’s lurking habits had caught them off guard, Travis still jumped. “He has, I think, thirteen nephews and nieces?”

Indeed, most of the photos were of the kids.

“You’d never believe looking at this family that blonde hair and blue eyes were recessive traits,” Ben remarked.

Travis simply messaged Vic one word; “PHOTOS!?”

He didn’t get a reply for hours, and when he did, he laughed. Herrera looked over inquiringly. “Vic says, ‘I know. It’s kind of hilarious that after like, two and a bit years all of a sudden there’s this big dump of photos. I have no idea when Julie put them all up! Not much point pretending they weren’t there though, so I’m just giving up’.”

“What did Ripley think?” he said out loud as he typed it back in reply.

His phone buzzed a few minutes later.

“He doesn’t have any social media accounts apart from the one his PA made as the official one. So he didn’t realise that my accounts had nothing about him, and he’s pretty ambivalent either way. Julie apologised profusely – she didn’t realise her photos were auto-tagging. It’s really very hilarious,” Travis read for the benefit of his colleagues.

“Tell her they’re cute photos,” Ben suggested, and Travis dutifully relayed the message, receiving a smiley face in return.

So they didn’t really hear from Vic again. There was no real need to message and ask how Australia was as there was a rolling cavalcade of photos posted by Ripley’s family – who, unlike the Chief, were clearly avid Facebookers.

There was a big family photo of about forty people on the beach, all, Travis noted with amusement, wearing matching swim shirts.

There was a photo of what was clearly Lucas and his four siblings, then another photo of the siblings with their partners.

“God, the adorableness is killing me,” Andy grumbled at dinner that night. “ _Is that Lucas’s famous girlfriend_? asks a lady named Mabel Stone, and Julie Ripley replies, _yes, that’s his gorgeous partner Victoria_.”

“Did you see the photo of Vic braiding a kid’s hair, and then the kid braiding Ripley’s?” Dean added.

“There’s a photo of Rip with braided hair?” Sullivan piped up. “Send that one to me. I’m going to get his PA to put it on every computer in HQ for his return.”

Dean snorted, and did as he was asked.

There was a photo posted by one of Ripley’s sisters of _the girls enjoying the view_ which was a picture taken from behind of seven women lying on the beach watching the rest of the family play some sort of soccer game. Most of the men were shirtless.

A day later, and Vic posted on her Instagram (which had been spared the deluge of photos), a photo of Ripley mid-swing with a cricket bat, hair flying, with the caption, _found a hot guy playing cricket in Australia_.

But the picture that Travis had to comment on was a photo posted of Ripley and Vic, holding hands on the beach. It was clearly a candid shot; she had thrown her head back in laughter and he was grinning directly at her. In their swimwear, they looked like models in a photoshoot (if the photoshoot had liked a slightly blurry aesthetic). So he maturely posted three flames as a comment. Maya then commented, _smokin’_ , followed by Andy who posted kiss emojis, Gibson who posted a gif of someone waggling their eyebrows meaningfully, and Dean who posted a vomit emoji.

* * *

 

“Welcome home,” Travis said, as Ripley and Vic reached the car. “I left Lucy at home because I wasn’t sure how long it would take you guys to get back out through.”

“Hi, Travis,” Vic gave him a hug. “Everything go okay? Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied. “Everything was fine. We didn’t burn down your house.”

“Thanks, Travis, for picking us up and looking after the place,” Ripley added.

The drive from the airport was long, and Ripley snored a little in the back as Vic delightedly, if tiredly, told Travis about their trip.

They unloaded the car, Ripley having woken with a start as they pulled into the driveway.

“Lucy I’m ho-ome,” Ripley called as he stepped into the house. Excited barks met him, and the beagle ran frantically at him, jumping up on him and licking every part she could reach. As Vic stepped into the house, Lucy went even crazier, jumping back and forth between the two of them.

“Oh, did you miss us, girl?” Vic cooed, giving the dog a scratch.

“Welcome home,” Grant said, stepping into the hall. “She missed you guys so much.”

“Thanks so much, Grant,” Ripley said. “We really appreciate it.”

The four of them spoke for a few minutes, but it was clear that Vic and Ripley were exhausted so Travis and Grant quickly took their leave.

* * *

 

“Oh my god, you are so tanned!” squealed Andy two days later at breakfast as Vic walked into the dining room.

“Hi everyone, Merry Christmas!” she said with a big grin, looking happy and relaxed. “I know, I kept putting on sunscreen but…you should see how brown Lucas is!”

“Would’ve thought he’d burn,” commented Dean.

“Half his family burned, the other half tanned, and the tanned half are unbearably smug about it,” Vic reported, tipping a bag onto the table. “So, here’s some Aussie treats. Andy, Lucas made me buy you a jar of Vegemite. Here’s some TimTams for everyone to share and guys – are these the best ever! And here’s some caramello koalas. And I may have bought a block of every type of Cadbury’s. Honestly, Australian chocolate is SO GOOD.”

Sullivan cleared his throat, and everyone stopped talking over each other excitedly to look at him. “Welcome back, Hughes,” he said. “Glad the drop bears didn’t get you. The rest of you, pay up!”

Vic looked confused.

“Damnit, there’s no ring,” Dean swore, glumly handing his money over to Sullivan.

“Doesn’t mean they didn’t get engaged, she just might not wear it at work?” Ben said hopefully. Everyone turned to look expectantly at Vic.

She blushed. “You guys bet on –”

“Whether or not you would come back engaged, yes, so ‘fess up!” Travis said.

“No, we haven’t,” she said, blushing a bit more. “Don’t be weird.”

Everyone groaned and slid their money up the table to Sullivan.


	19. Fusion I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.  
> This is the first part of an absurdly long sequence that I have divided up - this will be the first set of chapters that are deliberately part of an arc.

“Lucas, I need to talk to you,” he hears Vic hiss abruptly, grabbing his elbow. He barely has time to apologise to Sullivan before he’s pulled away from the group.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately upon looking at her. Vic’s biting her lower lip, and her eyes are darting away from his. She doesn’t reply, and instead tows him to the opposite corner of the bar in which station 19 are having end-of-year drinks. “Victoria?”

He’s starting to really worry, and he can see in his peripheral vision the rest of her station staring at them in confusion.

Okay, good to know that nobody else knows what’s going on either.

“Doyastillwannamarryme?” a bunch of syllables rush out of her mouth. Lucas blinks at her, mentally trying to work out how much she’s had to drink. It can only be one, maybe two drinks.

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. “What –”

She takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and says, “do you still want to marry me?”

He’s a bit blindsided. They haven’t talked about marriage since he told her (in the fight about moving in together) that he would if she wanted to. But it hasn’t come up since. At all. In like…two and a bit years.

So he just stares at her in surprise, trying to work out what is going on.

Her face falls a little. “It’s just we were talking and I realised I was about to say ‘ _when_ we get married’ which means I assume we are getting married and then I wasn’t sure if you even really still wanted to and that we haven’t talked abo-”

When she rambles like this he can never get a word in edgeways – not that he can exactly find words right now.

So he does the only thing that’s ever worked to shut her up. He reaches out and cups her face in his hands and kisses her.

Eventually he has to stop kissing her because they run out of air. His thumbs stroke across her cheekbones and he says breathlessly, “obviously.”

“Obviously?” she beams up at him.

“You’re pretty marriable. Did we just get engaged?” he asks, still a little confused.

“Well, I’ve decided I will let you have the honour of being the first Mr Hughes,” she said archly. Lucas throws his head back and laughs. When he’s mostly stopped, she smiles at him, and checks, “do you want to marry me?”

“Obviously,” he repeats.

“So, yeah, I think you think I’m marriable, I think you’re marriable; we’re getting married,” her voice is very soft, and they stand there, grinning stupidly at each other for a few minutes. Her eyes flicker to his lips and she stretches up on her toes and kisses him again. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her as tightly against him as he can. They break off the kiss and he lowers his forehead to her shoulder and she burrows into the base of his throat. They hold each other tightly for a few minutes.

“What do we do now?” she asks as they pull away from each other a little, his hands settling on her waist and hers loop around his neck.

“Well, we probably have to explain ourselves to your team,” Lucas replies. “We need to call my Mum so that she can tell the rest of the family. You need to text your brother. Um. We need to talk about how and when we want to get married at some point?”

“Can we just elope?” she asks.

He laughs. “I just fell a bit more in love with you.”

“Seriously, Luke. You’ve been married before, I don’t really have a huge family or group of friends or anything that I want a big party for or anything – I just want to marry you. I think in my head I feel like we might be a bit married already.”

“We’re married in my head,” Lucas shrugs. “I’ve planned to spend the rest of my life with you - or as long as you’ll have me – since…oh about week two.”

Her eyes soften, and she brings her palm up to rub at his beard.

“Darling,” she says quietly, before her eyes widen. “Shit. We can’t elope. Your nieces will kill us. They asked me the first time I went over as your girlfriend whether they could be flower girls.”

Lucas simply laughs. “Well, we can’t exactly just have them there. We have to invite their parents.”

“And then your other siblings. And then your Mom. And then my brother.”

“And then your station.”

“God, this is how weddings snowball, right?” she asks, wrinkling up her nose. “All I want is for poor little Lucy to have a stable home.” She pauses for a bit, before adding hopefully, “and for her future siblings to have married parents.”

“Human or fur siblings?” he asks quietly.

“Travis has teased me for years about how my vision of this relationship was lots of sex and then a team of curly-haired, mocha coloured, potentially illegitimate but charming children,” she says shyly.

“I will be happy to have no babies, one baby, two babies, or a cricket team of babies,” Lucas says, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “We can adopt, we can have donor sperm or donor eggs or whatever you want. I’d be delighted to have children. But I’m also very happy just having you and our stupid dog.”

Vic laughs. “How many players in a cricket team?”

“Eleven.”

“I’m saying a hard no to that,” Vic replies firmly. “No more than six.”

Lucas can’t help the smug grin. “Well, we’ve had lots of practice at making babies,” he says, waggling his eyebrows, and stealing a brief kiss. “But, you know, I’m always happy to keep perfecting the process.”

“Well, I’m scheduling another practice session tonight,” Vic grins back at him.

“I’ll practice with you any time, and any place,” he promises.

“Do you need our children to be born after we get married?” she asks, rolling her eyes at him. He shakes his head. “Shall I come off the pill?”

“Victoria, if you want to have a baby now, I will do my utmost to get you pregnant as quickly as possible,” he says, only half-jokingly. “I don’t care if we’re married or not.”

“Okay, good,” she blushes a bit. “So we’ve established, we’ll get married – probably can’t elope. And we’re going to try to have a baby.”

Lucas lets himself grin slowly at her, letting his gaze drift up and down in a way he normally wouldn’t ever do in public.

She blushes fully, just as he’d hoped.

“Well, my beautiful fiancée,” he says, stepping back and offering her his arm. “Shall we go and explain to your team that we’re getting married, and leave out the bit about making babies?”

“And eloping,” Vic adds, taking his arm. “If Travis or Maya hear I’ve even considered it –”

Lucas laughs again, and they walk back over to her team-mates, who busy themselves pretending to have not been watching the entire time. They don’t bother to hide their quizzical looks, but nobody seems to want to ask.

“She just proposed to me,” Lucas says airily, pointing at Vic. Everyone’s jaws drop.

“No, that’s not what just happened,” she protests, like he knew she would. “I accepted _your_ proposal from like two years ago –”

“I did _not_ propose two years ago, Victoria,” he interrupts. “I said I would marry you if you wanted but I did _not_ ask you to marry me. What did you just say then?”

“I said that I’d decided I’d _let_ you be the first Mr Hughes,” she replies archly. Everyone laughs.

“Right and then…” he waves his hand along. “I’m pretty sure you said, and I quote, ‘do you want to marry me?’ Do you deny you said that?”

She grimaces a little. “We proposed to each other?”

He grins at her fondly. “Sure, I’ll take that.”

“Oh. My. God!” Travis practically squeals and throws himself at them. Lucas shoots a panicked look at the rest of them as he ends up having to try to stabilise the three of them so they don’t fall over into a pile of limbs. “Congratulations, when am I going to become Uncle Travis?”

“Oh my god, Travis!” Vic hits him in the shoulder, and Lucas feels himself go red.

“Ew,” Miller says, as he always does when the topic of him and Vic being…well…sexually active is raised. “Congratulations.”

A chorus of congratulations goes round and Lucas is surprised that Bishop actually gives him a quick half-hug. In the midst of the commotion, Sullivan steps forward, and Lucas can see in his eyes a complex mix of emotions.

“Third time lucky,” Lucas says quietly to his friend, feeling almost apologetic.

“Congratulations, brother,” Sullivan says, pulling him into a rough embrace. He turns to Vic, and surprises her with a quick hug. “Good luck, Victoria. You’ll need it. He’s useless.”

Lucas buys another round of drinks for the whole team. After about half an hour, he leans into Vic’s ear and says as quietly as he can, “let’s go. They all already know we’re going to have sex tonight.”

“No argument from me,” she whispers back, before turning to the group. “We’re gonna head off now. Have a good night.”

Lucas simply tries not to look to smug as everyone murmurs congratulations again and they make their exit.

He’s just turned the ignition on when he feels a hand trail up his thigh.

“You did say any time, any place?” Vic’s breath is warm in his ear. He laughs.

 

 


	20. Fusion II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated E.
> 
> Another attempt at explicit fic, this time from Lucas' point of view.

He’s just turned the ignition on when he feels a hand trail up his thigh.

“You did say any time, any place?” Vic’s breath is warm in his ear. He laughs.

“Let me at least move the car somewhere so that your team doesn’t walk out of that bar and sees that we couldn’t get out of the carpark without having sex,” he suggests.

“Fine,” he can hear her pout, but she clicks her seatbelt in.

Her hand, however, continues to stroke his thigh in a very distracting way, and so he doesn’t exactly drive carefully. If they’re going to be fucking in his car, he figures it should be not in a place people are near so he heads to the nearest marina carpark which is only a few minutes away. Much closer than home, at least. Thankfully, it’s not well lit, so he picks a spot as far away from any other cars and as poorly lit as he can and parks. Turns the ignition off and pulls the handbrake as hard as he can.

He glances over to see Vic casually pulling her bra out of one of the arms of her shirt, dropping it into her footwell, and swallows hard.

“I should’ve worn a skirt tonight,” she remarks, removing her hand from his thigh and starting to work on opening her jeans.

“Well, we’ve never done this,” Lucas says, his pants uncomfortably tight. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “You ever had sex in a car?”

“No,” she admits. “Have you?”

“No, actually,” he says. “God, we have no idea what we’re doing. But we’re both way too tall for the backseat, I think?”

“Agreed,” she says, pausing as she glances over at him. “Before I take off my pants, I think you might be actually best in this seat. No steering wheel. If we push the seat all the way back, and have me on top…”

“Okay,” he’s a little undignified in his haste to get out of the car, and she giggles at him as he slams his door and comes around to her door. She’s got the seat pushed as far back and down as she can by the time he gets there, and they swap places. Vic gets back in the car and wriggles on top of him as she gets her jeans off.

“Okay,” she says with a huff, as the jeans finally come off. “That was a pain.”

“This was your idea, baby,” he says.

“Right, and you’re completely indifferent,” he can tell she’s rolling her eyes as she says it, and he hisses as she grinds against his groin.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says. He pauses, and says gently, “hey.”

“Hi,” she says in an equally low tone of voice, and lowers her mouth to his.

Kissing her is always like kissing fire, or stars, or … he can’t think of another poetic way to put it.

Electricity. That’s another way.

Her tongue twists against his, and he clumsily undoes her hair elastic thing until her curly hair spills around their faces. He lets his hands trace patterns across her skin under her shirt, slowly making his way around to her breasts. As he caresses a nipple, she gasps into his mouth and starts rocking on his lap in a very, very good and bad way.

He slips a hand down, forcing her hips up and slides a finger past her underwear, stroking her gently.

Her hips arc towards his hand and he can’t help but smirk into her kiss as she moans. Lucas figures he can take the time to properly tease her later, when they get home (practice will make perfect babies after all) so he speeds up, going right for the points that he knows will get her off.

“Wait,” she hisses urgently, breaking away. He stops, hand inside her knickers. “This is going to sound stupid, but it’s … we’re engaged. I want us to come together.”

He slides his hand back out and, as she lifts her hips to help him, awkwardly unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out. It’s a relief to have it out of the constraining material, and with Vic on top of him, her breath mingling with his, it takes only a couple of pumps with his hand before he’s lubricated enough and good to go. He pushes the lacy fabric of her knickers to one side, and nudges the head of his dick against her.

He groans as she slides down slowly. Vic then squirms, trying to get comfortable, and he lets his head fall back.

“You good, baby?” she pants.

The car restrains them, so she’s fully pressed against him now; his face buried somewhere near her collarbones.

“Nearly,” he says, bringing his hands up to push her shirt up to bunch unceremoniously around her neck. He’s grateful that she picked one of her big flow-y shirts tonight, because it means he can get his face against her breasts.

“Fuck me, Lucas,” she moans, as he finds a nipple and closes his mouth over it.

He doesn’t bother to respond out loud, and simply rocks his hips up to remind her that they’re in the process of doing exactly that.

It takes a couple of readjustments, but finally they find a position where she’s able to ride him in relative comfort. Lucas knows he’s got the better end of the deal; right now, he gets to sit back, suck her tits, grip her fine ass, and enjoy the feel of her around him.

Oh, and desperately concentrate on trying not to blow his load too soon. Which is always a tall order. So he slowly starts reciting the procedure manual in his own head.

He doesn’t have a lot of room, but he manages to get the timing right so that he rocks up just as she slides down.

“Luucas,” she moans, and he nips her breast a little, concentrating on keeping the rhythm with his thrusts.

It gets harder, as her movements become more uncoordinated.

“Can’t get my hand to your clit,” it takes him a while to pant that out. Words aren’t his strong suit, especially during sex.

“I won’t need it,” she pants back. “Close.”

He closes his mouth over a breast again and sucks hard, as he brings one hand up from her ass to grasp her other breast. He rocks his hips up harder as she rides him faster and faster.

“Luke,” she cries. “Luke.”

He releases her breast with his mouth, and stretches his neck up to meet her lips. He hopes there’s no-one around, but it’s probably best if she doesn’t scream. Her hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard as she returns his kiss passionately. Her movements slow, and she spends a few minutes simply rocking back and forth with him balls deep in her before she starts up again. He moves his hand to the back of her neck, holding her in place against his mouth to muffle the cries she’s making.

Suddenly, she bites down on his lip and he feels her come around him.

As she melts against him, he thrusts up as hard as he can with the limited angle, finally letting the procedures manual go and focussing solely on how wet and warm she is and how nice she smells and how lucky he is that this woman lets him fuck her. And has agreed to have him for the rest of her life.

So it takes him no time at all to come with a grunt, as she nuzzles against his face.

“Well,” she says, after a few minutes of them just holding each other. “We’ve ticked that off the list.”

“Please say you don’t ever want to have sex in my car again,” he mumbles.

She laughs. “No, that was not the most comfortable sex I’ve ever had.”

“Thank god,” he says fervently, and leans forward to meet her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Vic says. “Now, let’s go home and _practice_ in a more comfortable spot.”

He laughs.


	21. Fusion III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for language.  
> This is the last in this arc of how they got married.

They had a six month engagement.

“Is that going to be long enough?” Maya asked in alarm, when Vic issued the invites.

“Well, his mom offered her house for the wedding and reception,” Vic said. “And in lieu of presents, we’re just going to ask everyone to bring a plate of food. So yes. We’re pretty much done.”

Travis, Ben, Andy and Maya exchanged looks.

“As the two people who have been married,” Travis gestured between him and Ben. “There’s a lot more.”

“As your two best friends,” Maya waved between herself and Andy. “Have you thought about a photographer?”

“Wet weather plan?”

“The decorating?”

“Who’s the bridal party?”

“What are they wearing?”

“What are you two wearing?”

“Flowers – what kind, is anyone allergic?”

“Transport there? What kind of cars do you want?”

As they all ran out of steam, Dean leant forward.

“And as the guy sitting here responsible for the two of you getting together,” he said, grimacing reflexively. “My question is: who’s doing the cake?”

“Actually, if anyone gets that honour it’s probably Travis,” she admitted.

Dean looked at Travis in surprise, who shrugged.

“Well, if I hadn’t gone to the peer group support thing with Travis –”

“Wait, _that’s_ when it started?” Dean exclaimed.

“No we first hooked up on your birthday,” Vic said bluntly, pausing for Dean to make his usual disgusted noise. “But the peer support thing was when I started to actually like him.”

“Anyway, to answer all those questions: his eldest nephew’s just started up a photography business, he’s quite good, he’s coming anyway, and he needs the work. We’ll get married indoors if it’s raining. Decorations are a work in progress, but not a big deal to us. His nieces are our flower girls and that’s it. They’ll wear cute dresses. We’re wearing clothes. Probably gerberas, if I can get them. We’re just going to use our own cars – it’s literally just at his mom’s house. And his mom’s making the cake, Dean, and she’s an amazing baker.”

“She’ll be stressed later,” Ben said sagely.

* * *

 

Vic was pretty proud of herself for managing to keep it quiet.

Travis had spotted the ring as soon as she’d gotten back from their trip to the Grand Canyon (which they’d organised just before they’d gotten engaged).

“What’s that?” he demanded at breakfast, grabbing her hand.

“A ring,” Vic replied as coolly as she could, cursing the blush that crept across her face. “And before you start, yes, it’s a wedding ring. I can’t wear my engagement ring at work. This ring is plainer, cheaper, and it doesn’t matter if it gets lost.”

None of that was untrue. Her engagement ring was going to stay at home while the wedding ring was the one she was going to wear most of the time.

She just hadn’t quite mentioned the fact that when they went to the Grand Canyon it involved a layover in Vegas each way.

After hiking and camping for a week, they’d gotten back to Vegas, had a few drinks, and decided to get married. They’d kind of wanted to elope in the first place anyway.

[Her team eventually woredk it out the following year, when they found out that Lucas and Vic don’t have anything planned for their wedding anniversary – because they’d agreed to celebrate the first wedding as their real one].

So, yes, it was her wedding ring that she was wearing, and its match rested on Lucas’ finger. (He continued to grumble about not being able to wear his around his family or station 19, but she just kept reminding him that his mother and Montgomery would kill him if they knew they'd eloped).

* * *

 

And she had no regrets about it, as the preparations for ‘their wedding’ ramped up. If she hadn’t already been married to him, Vic suspected she would’ve completely lost the plot at least once, possibly twice. Given that his mum, Julie, had the first breakdown and then Bishop had the second, Vic figured they didn’t need any further breakdowns.

The wedding was small and simple, in the backyard of his mother’s house. She would have felt bad, but Julie had offered her house immediately when they told her they were looking for a small venue, maybe in a park.

The ceremony was simple. His three nieces preceded her down a somewhat crooked aisle (a slightly uneven space between four rows of ten chairs that had been set out by his nephews earlier).

Mike escorted her down the aisle, and she and Lucas got to grin stupidly at each other the entire way. He wore clothes he already owned: a simple dark suit, suspenders, and a blue bow tie. (She made him wear suspenders. It’s the end of summer, it was a warm day, and she predicted his jacket was going to come off as soon as he thought he would get away with it, and he looked  _hot_ in suspenders).

Meanwhile, she spent a day with Maya and Andy in fancy dress shops, hating all the big poofy fancy dresses before finding a hipster looking store and spending a couple of hundred dollars on a pretty, simple, white knee-length dress. It had pockets.

Their wedding celebrant was a sweet young woman who as instructed dutifully read her shortest ceremony.

The only bit of fuss that occurred is the laughter that happens when he – unexpectedly to her – swore to “love, cherish and obey till death us do part”. Her vows did _not_ contain that wording.

Then they were married for the second time. It was either Miller or his nephews that started up a chorus of catcalls as they kissed.

It was wonderfully informal, and his brother and her brother quickly set out the tables for everyone to sit around for a buffet style dinner of the food everyone had brought.

“Welcome, everyone,” Julie got up to make a speech, beaming. “I mean, I know most of you already because I either gave birth to you or was there when you were born. As you know, I’m Julie, Lucas’ mum. When he first told me about Victoria, I have to admit, I was a little concerned initially that he might be having, well, a mid-life crisis. Then I met her, and I saw both how head over heels Lucas was for her, and why. Vic, you are a beautiful young lady with a heart of gold and a wicked sense of humour. You mix the best cocktails, and you have made my son happier than I’ve ever seen him. I know Lucas’ dad would have loved you, and I’m so glad you’re part of our family. So, to the bride, and to the groom.”

The toast was echoed with gusto, and then Mike stood.

“Hi everyone,” he said. “As you all know, I’m Vic’s brother, Mike. Look, when she first told me about Lucas, I kind of wanted to punch his lights out.” Everyone laughed. “But then I spoke to the guy. And he was thoughtful, and respectful, irritatingly likeable, and clearly in love with my sister. And she was clearly madly and happily in love with him. Luke, what I’m saying is, the first night I was home from leave, you really didn’t need to have snuck into her bedroom window via the fire escape.”

Their family and friends erupted in laughter. Vic couldn’t help but join them as Lucas lost any opportunity to deny he’d done any such thing by turning scarlet and letting his forehead hit the table. Vic rubbed his back sympathetically.

It took a while for everyone to stop laughing.

“Our Mom and Dad aren’t with us here tonight, but I know they’re looking down on us and that they approve just like I do. I know that they, like me, are grateful to Luke’s family. When I came home on leave from deployment a few years ago, they had me around for dinner. I’ve never felt so instantly welcomed, or at home, and the same is true for all the subsequent times they’ve fed me, and for today. Julie, and the rest of the Ripley family, thank you for opening your home to my sister, to me, and to all of us tonight. Luke, thank you for treating my sister the way she deserves, with love and respect and a hell of a lot of sarcasm. Thank you, for being part of our family.”

Julie stood back up and leaned over to Mike, pulling him into a hug.

“Damnit, Michael,” Vic said, furiously dabbing at her eyes. “You’ve made me cry on my wedding day!”

Everyone laughed again.

Vic glanced at Lucas, and they both stood together.

“Well, we want to thank you all for coming,” Lucas started. “It means a lot to us that our families could be here today. I’m so grateful to Vic’s family, both Mike, and the team at station 19 for not actually punching me or killing me at any point.”

“Yeah, thanks for not doing that guys,” Vic interjected. As everyone’s laughter settled she took a breath and glanced at Lucas, taking his hand. “Mike’s said a lot of what I wanted to, about how Lucas’ family have been so welcoming. I thought it meant the world to have you approve of Lucas and me, and then I saw how you treated my brother as one of your own and…” Vic paused, sniffed loudly, and went, “God. I’m not going to cry again. I’m just going to say thank you, and that like 90% of the reason I married him is so that I can attend family dinners forever. And in particular, Mum, thank you so much for offering to let us get married in your backyard.”

“So,” Lucas picked up his glass as Vic did the same. “To Mum, for hosting our wedding. And to family, those able to physically be here and those who are in our hearts.”

Everyone toasted solemnly. Vic couldn’t bear how serious it was, so said, “so hope you’re all ready to get lit!”

“Woot woot!” Miller hooted, and everyone laughed again, even the kids.

As they sat down, Lucas kissed her again.

* * *

 

She was on her third or fourth drink after dinner when Travis came up and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“I’m disappointed,” he said to her and Lucas, interrupting the conversation they were having with his mother and sister. “Oops, sorry, I’m Travis Montgomery. I’m Vic’s best friend.”

“Julie,” and “Kylie,” the two women introduced themselves.

“What’s disappointed you?” Julie asked, somewhat concerned.

Vic winced, having a bad feeling about what was coming.

“Vic’s drinking,” Travis observed loudly.

“Good work, Detective Drunk,” she replied hurriedly, pushing at him.

“Means you’re not pregnant,” he ignored her, shaking his head. “I _need_ to be Uncle Travis. I need beautiful mixed-race babies to spoil.”

“I _know_ ,” Vic groaned in unison with Lucas as Julie’s eyes brightened, thrilled to find a kindred spirit. “I mean, I already have lots of grandchildren, but Lucas is my baby! I want my baby to have a baby of his own.”

“I mean, Vic’s off the pill, so hopefully it won’t be long,” Kylie added meaningfully.

Vic felt like her face is on fire, and she glanced at Lucas (her incredibly hot _husband_ who had ditched the jacket and the bow tie and now had his shirt unbuttoned at the top and was still wearing suspenders).

“You’re off the pill?” Travis exclaimed, just as Lucas exclaimed, “Why does my sister know you’re off the pill?!”

“She asked?” Vic offered, wincing even more.

“I mean, it’s all about timing,” Julie started to say, and Vic felt Lucas’ arm leave her shoulders.

“I am not drunk enough for this conversation,” he said, shaking his head. “I am going to go over there –” he pointed in a random direction, “and drink. A lot.”

“Bro, if you’re drunk you won’t be able to impregnate your wife tonight,” Kylie called after him. He flipped her the finger.

“So you’re trying to get pregnant?!” Travis demanded. Vic, bereft of anything to hide her face behind or in, glared at him.

“We’re not trying,” she said hastily. “We’re just not-not trying. Look, neither of us are exactly young – I mean, I’m thirties young not twenties young and if it gets difficult I’d rather it not be a Thing to Discuss.”

Travis looked suddenly upset and Vic sighed. When he was drunk he was always emotional.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure,” he said. “Well, a little, maybe, but it’s out of love. I’ll ease up.”

“No you won’t,” she said indulgently. “You’re not going to remember this conversation tomorrow. But it’s okay.”

She could see Travis obviously searching for something to do to make amends, and he suddenly clicked his fingers. “Got it, I’ll make it up to you by making sure your husband is sober enough to fuck you tonight.”

“Great choice of words in front of my mother in law, Montgomery,” Vic rolled her eyes, but Julie and Kylie were just hiccoughing with laughter at that point. “But sure, go on.” She gave him a friendly shove, and he tottered in Lucas’ direction.

“I’m glad it’s not just our family making those kinds of comments, Vic,” Kylie wiped her eyes.

“We aren’t trying to pressure you, love,” Julie hurriedly tried to assure her.

“It’s okay,” Vic sighed. “I’m just hoping that we _don’t_ have any problems.”

“You’ve only been … ‘practicing’…for what, a few months?” Kylie clarified, searching for a euphemism.

“Since we got engaged? So six?” Vic replied. She probably should have felt weird about discussing this with his mom and one of his sisters, but his mom was the best and this was his favourite sister so…

“Honey, that’s fine,” Julie said firmly. “Especially if you’ve not been trying-trying. If you’ve done twelve months of checking timing and all of that kind of thing, _then_ you’re supposed to go and see a doctor.” At Vic’s quizzical look, Julie cast a pointed look around the room. “I have four children. I have had to do my research!”

“Mum’s right,” Kylie offered. “Now that you don’t have a wedding to worry about, just … _practice_ … a lot.”

Vic laughed at that, and tossed her sister-in-law a wink. “Don’t worry. I will.”


	22. Re-Tux (A Winter's Ball Redux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T

____

_2020 Emergency Services Ball_

“Have you seen the Chief’s date?” Wilson hissed in Charlotte’s ear.

“Chick is smoking,” agreed Baldwin.

“The Chief brought a date? The Chief never brings a date,” Charlotte replied, immediately casting her eye around the room.

Ripley had been promoted to Battalion Chief about a month after Charlotte’d started at Station 12 as a rookie. Still, in the month he’d been her Captain, he’d been great. While strict, he was always good-humoured and disarmingly relaxed most of the time. More importantly, he hadn’t treated her any differently to any of her male colleagues.

He was also, as far as she’d ever known, perpetually single for some reason. For a while she’d wondered if he were gay. While polite to women who would hit on him at calls, he never once looked twice, but then he never looked twice at the men who hit on him either.

His date was a tall African American woman. Much younger than him. And very hot in a green dress.

“She looks familiar,” Charlotte mused, unable to place the woman.

“I know, right?” Wilson agreed. “Maybe she’s in admin?”

“She’s fit for an admin lady,” Baldwin said.

“I think she’s a firefighter,” said Estevez. “I swear I’ve seen her at a scene.”

“Alright, team,” Charlotte clapped her hands and gathered her crew around. “The mission tonight is to find out who the Chief’s lady is. This is the SFD. I’m frankly appalled we didn’t already know he was seeing someone – ”

“Might just be a ‘date’ for the evening?” Estevez suggested, but she sounded unconvinced herself.

“It’s Ripley. I’ve known the guy since I was a rookie. He _never_ brings anyone to these things. He usually gets a captain or a Battalion Chief to sit with him instead,” Charlotte said with certainty.

“Plus, look at them,” Yang piped up for the first time. “Like, they are _into_ each other.”

They all glanced over to see that she was right. The Chief’s hand was resting comfortably at the small of Mystery Woman’s back, and she had tilted her head back and was gazing at him with a very fond smile.

“It’s cute,” Yang smiled, and Charlotte rolled her eyes at the younger woman.

“Just…go. Report back at our table,” she ordered, watching with satisfaction as her team scattered.

None of her friends at other stations knew anything; in fact, most of the SFD were doing a similar thing to Station 12, trying to find out the gossip. The top brass all seemed to have met Mystery Woman though, as they all smiled and shook her hand and seemed unsurprised.

Actually, Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. The _only_ crew not making efforts to find out gossip was Station 19’s B shift. Who, as always, were smugly standing in a big group in their superior smugness in a corner. With that weird police officer guy that was always hanging around them.

She steeled herself, and headed over.

“So, who is she?” Charlotte asked, stepping right up to Bishop.

(Bishop, on a side note, looked hot enough to eat).

The circle of firefighters (and one police officer) who had been laughing only a second ago now looked slightly grim, and seemed to close ranks.

“Who’s who?” Bishop asked, taking a sip of her drink and tossing her hair back.

(Charlotte was pleased to note, though, that Bishop was checking her out).

“Ripley’s girl,” Charlotte nodded her head over to the couple.

“The Chief’s partner is none of your business,” Herrera said in her infuriating tone of superiority.

It was enough to give Charlotte pause, and she ran her gaze over the team there again.

They were one person down. Oh. _Oh_.

“Wait, she must be un-ranked,” Charlotte realised out loud. “Oh my god.”

“Do you have –” Herrera began aggressively, but Gibson stepped forward, resting a hand on Herrera’s shoulder.

“Look,” he said with his charming grin. “It’s all above board. Has been for years.”

“Years –?!” Charlotte couldn’t help but start, but she was interrupted by a deep voice.

“Is there a problem?” she turned to see the terrifying, tall and grim captain of 19 looming over her.

“No, sir,” she replied.

“Good,” he said. He eyed her for a moment. “I’d like it to stay that way.” He let his words sink in, and directed his gaze to the rest of his crew. “Time to sit down, team.”

They all filed after him like sheep, except Herrera, Herrera’s pet policeman, and Bishop.

“If you – ” Herrera began to say, but Bishop gave her a friendly shove and the policeman grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

“Vic’s one of my best friends,” Bishop said softly. “Ripley’s a good man. I don’t like gossips.”

“I don’t know your Vic,” Charlotte said in the same tone of voice. “Ripley is a good man. Better than bloody Wilson. She better not bring him down.”

“No gossip about either of them,” Bishop said. “If anyone has any questions, Miller –” Bishop pointed to a tank of a man, “will be happy to have them directed to him for answers. Got it?”

“You’re hot like this,” Charlotte flirted, letting her eyes sweep across Bishop’s figure.

“I know,” the other woman tossed her hair, gave her another flirtatious look, and swept off to join her team.

* * *

 

_2021 Emergency Services Ball_

Ripley was loosening his tie as he and Vic walked up to the group.

“Does this mean you’ve done your duty rounds?” Travis asked eagerly. “Done all the handshaking? All the smiling?”

“I hope so,” Vic replied, plaintively. “It’s exhausting!”

The previous year, Vic had walked around before dinner with him, but had eaten with them and not done the after dinner rounds. This year, she’d done all three with him, so the party was well in swing and they’d barely seen her all night.

“You should’ve come over,” Andy said supportively, drunk enough to shoot Ripley a bit of a glare.

“Poor Lucas would’ve been stuck on having to talk about our wedding instead of trying to actually get work done,” Vic replied lightly.

“I just don’t know what they wanted you to say?” Ripley looked a little confused. “I mean. We got married. It was nice?”

Vic rolled her eyes at him. “Thanks darling, it’s nice being married to you too,” she said sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean – Vic,” he said, shooting a pleading look at Sullivan. Sullivan simply laughed.

“No one has ever accused him of being a romantic, hey Hughes?” Sullivan said. Vic laughed.

“Anyway, so this means you’re good for shots!?” Andy said excitedly, flagging the bartender down.

 “I’ve had enough to drink,” Vic said quickly. Too quickly. Maya narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her friend.

“Who are you and what have you done with Victoria Hughes?” Dean asked with a laugh, oblivious.

Vic shot a panicked look at Ripley, as Andy turned and thrust a shotglass towards her.

“Jagerbombs tonight,” Andy crowed, also oblivious.

“If Vic feels she’s had enough,” Gibson interjected. “Let’s not peer-pressure her.”

“Nonsense,” said Miller. “C’mon, Vic, it’s end of the year par-TAY!”

“You were drinking white wine earlier,” Travis said slowly, pointing at the mostly-empty glass of red wine that she was holding. “And I’m sure you had a champagne flute at the beginning of the night.”

“Exactly,” Vic said. “I’ve had enough to drink.”

“It’s not like you’re driving tonight, though, you guys will just grab a cab, right?” Andy said carelessly.

“No, she’s not driving,” Travis’ tone was serious, and everyone paused in their tracks.

Vic winced, and looked at Ripley again.

“Oh my god,” Maya said, certain she was right.

“We’re only a few days off,” Ripley shrugged at Vic.

“But the wine,” Travis said, questioningly.

“Like this,” Ripley said, taking her hand. The two of them took a few steps back, then pretended to walk back up to them. Ripley let go of her hand and offered his hand to Sullivan, who dutifully shook it. “My wife, Victoria.” Maya was amused to note he still beamed stupidly as he said it, but as he did, he took her glass of wine from her right hand, handing her back the glass in his left hand after she’d shaken Sullivan’s hand.

“You’ve been swapping glasses,” Gibson nodded. “Smooth, sir.”

“Thanks, Gibson,” Ripley replied, amused.

“How wasted are you, Rip?” Sullivan asked with a snort.

“Look, we’ve spaced out the drinks,” he replied. “Still had about twice as much as usual.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Andy asked, clearly confused.

“He’s drinking for two,” Vic replied. “Because, I’m, well, we’re…” she looked up at him with a smile, and Maya thought she might be a bit sick at how adoringly he was looking back at her. “We’re eleven and a half weeks.”

Travis squealed. Dangerously loudly. And launched himself at Vic.

“Shut up,” Vic said with a laugh, returning the hug. “We’re not quite past the first trimester yet, we’d really rather not have it be a thing.”

“You knew?” Maya narrowed her eyes at Sullivan who was the only one looking unsurprised. He shrugged easily.

“Had to,” was the reply. “Smoke’s bad for the baby.”

“You helped lift that patient yesterday!” Travis exclaimed suddenly in alarm, letting go of Vic. She looked distinctly unimpressed, and looked pointedly at Ripley.

Ripley cleared his throat. “Montgomery, as my lovely wife has told me a hundred times, being pregnant is not a disability. She can and will lift whatever she damn well wants.”

“Just can’t drink whatever I want,” she said glumly. “Or eat soft cheese. Or seafood.”

“So no jagerbombs?” Andy said sadly.

“Yes, Andy, that’s what we should be focussing on,” said Gibson archly. He stepped forward and gave Vic a quick hug, before reaching his hand out to shake Ripley’s. “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations! A station 19 baby,” Dean beamed. “My middle name is Rupert, if you want to name him after the person that helped you two crazy kids get together.”

“We are not naming our child Rupert,” Vic said firmly as Ripley shook Miller’s hand.

“Don’t be absurd, Miller,” Maya stepped forward too, and hugged them both. “She’s a girl, and Maya is a really wonderful name.”

“Congratulations,” Andy said, giving both of them a quick half hug.

“I’ll drink with you when I’ve had the baby,” Vic promised. “In the meantime … Luke, you _are_ done with the politicking, right?”

“I thought you were kidding,” he said. Maya had never seen the Chief look afraid or nervous until this point.

“Baby, I can’t drink for nine months, I’ve been vomiting almost daily for the last two months –”

“How is this going to be helped by me getting blind drunk?” he asked plaintively.

“It will amuse your pregnant and hormonal wife,” she said, crossing her arms. He sighed. She grinned. “Andy, Chief Ripley will be delighted to join you in having shots. In fact, Chief Ripley is kindly going to be drinking what I would normally enjoy on an evening out with my closest friends because it is his fault I am currently unable to have more than a sip of wine.”

“Ew,” Dean said, automatically.

“Man, they’ve been together for like, three years, married for three months, I think you gotta get over the fact that they are banging,” Gibson turned to him and said.

“Hand me the shot, Herrera,” Ripley said quickly. “I am not drunk enough for any of these conversations.”

She did, grinning widely.

“What even is this?”

“A jagerbomb, Lucas, is a cocktail of jagermeister and an entire can of redbull,” Sullivan said in, if it had been anyone else, what Maya would have called a gleeful tone of voice.

“I’m too old to have a lot of red bull,” Ripley warned, but threw the shot back. He studied the empty glass. “Not bad, actually.”

“Wait, you’re eleven and a half weeks,” Travis had clearly been doing some math.

“Nonononono,” Dean stuck his fingers in his ears.

“Does this mean my mission to keep him sober enough on your wedding day worked?” Travis asked gleefully, and Vic blushed.

“What are we drinking next?” Ripley demanded desperately, as red in the face as Maya had ever seen him.

“I need to be drunk too if Montgomery’s going to do the math,” Sullivan agreed, signalling the barkeeper. “A round of tequila shots for everyone except the lady in blue. Quickly, please.”

Travis raised his eyebrows at Vic, who blushed even more furiously. “There’s a two week margin of error, Montgomery,” she said. “It’s not like you can exactly pin the date down…”

“But we could work out the percentage likelihood that it was your wedding night –” Maya couldn’t resist chiming in, enjoying how embarrassed the men were.

“No, come on, nobody wants to know how often they bone,” Gibson said before reflexively apologising to Ripley.

“No, Gibson, I couldn’t agree more,” Ripley said fervently, looking desperately at Vic. “Toria…”

“I’m not continuing this conversation,” she assured him. “Guys…”

“This is fun, though,” Travis said.

“We could average it out if we google how often newly-weds – ” Maya began.

“Bishop, Montgomery,” it had been years since they’d heard Ripley pull that tone on them, and Maya automatically fell into a parade ground stance. “Enough. For the love of god. Stop.”

“Sorry, sir,” they chorused, a little sheepishly.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now, take your shots.”

He handed them around like medicine, glaring at all of them. Sullivan and Vic were exchanging an amused look, the only two completely unruffled by Scary Chief Ripley.

“Three, two, one,” and they all, apart from Vic, took their shot.

Ripley was true to his word, and proceeded to drink about as much as Vic normally would have on a night out. Maya was amused to learn that a drunk Chief Ripley was a little more relaxed with what he said, and a LOT more physically affectionate. He was constantly touching Vic; initially light touches of her hand and forearm, but it quickly proceeded to an arm around her waist or shoulders, Vic being pulled into his side, and frequent kisses being pressed to her temple or cheek. It was adorable, and when they left, it was with Vic half supporting his body weight underneath his arm draped across her shoulders.


	23. New Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.  
> Super long and rambly chapter guys, sorry, but I wanted to get everyone in so it sort of blew out. Hope you all enjoy!

He’d tried to avoid being called out to fires with Vic so close to her due date. She was on maternity leave, waddling around the house, and generally being grumpy.

But this…this was a big fire. And he’d been called by a relatively junior captain. So he’d left his office and headed out to manage the fire.

He’d gotten the blaze to eighty percent contained when his phone rang.

“Ripley,” he said, eyes still tracking the progress of a new line being run into the building.

“Don’t freak out.”

He hadn’t been, but Vic saying that made him want to. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just at the hospital, and I am maybe a bit in labour.”

“How did you get –”

“I was watching the fire on the TV, you looked busy, so I called your mom. I have the bag and everything,” Vic interrupted calmly.

“I’m on my way,” Lucas said desperately. “I love you. Don’t have the baby without me.”

“We’ve got ages,” Vic said, reassuringly. “You’ve got time.”

“I love you,” he repeated. “Seriously, don’t have the baby without me.”

“If it comes before you get here, I promise to push him or her back upppp-” there was a sharp intake of breath.

“Vic?” Lucas asked.

“Contraction,” she replied tersely. “I love you. Get off the phone and handover.”

The phone went dead in his hand, and he looked around wildly, seeing no-one of suitable rank.

That’s right, he had a radio.

“Frankel, I need to handover,” he said into the radio urgently. “Meet me at the command car.”

In retrospect, that had probably been a mistake, as when he got there, Frankel was just arriving while most of Vic’s crew had already raced there.

“What the hell are you all doing?” he demanded harshly. “This is a goddamn active scene and you’re on triage. Get back to your positions!”

“We just-” Herrera began.

“No just,” Sullivan barked from behind him. “I only see one man here whose wife is having a baby. He’s the only one who needs to leave his position.”

“Shoo,” Frankel added forcefully. As 19 scattered, she turned to Sullivan and Lucas. “Jesus.”

“Take them to town when you get back to the station,” Lucas growled to Sullivan. He didn’t quite have the words to express his anger. It was bad enough he had to handover in the middle of a complex, active scene without a half-dozen firefighters leaving their positions.

“I will,” Sully promised. His expression softened a little. “Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, she’s at the hospital already,” frustration bled into his voice. “In labour. She said everything was okay but she sounded in pain.”

“She’s pushing, what, eight or nine pounds out of her pelvis, Rip,” Frankel said dryly. “Of course she’s in pain.”

Lucas felt himself pale. “All right, this fire.” He handed over quickly.

“Use your sirens,” Frankel said kindly. “Give her my best.”

“And keep me updated,” Sullivan added. “Give her 19’s love.”

“Thanks,” Lucas raced to his car. He pulled out at an almost reckless speed, and drove to Grey Sloan as quickly as he dared. (He couldn’t quite bring himself to abuse his position to use sirens. But he did speed. A bit).

* * *

 

All things considered, Vic was looking remarkably calm. His mother was sitting with her, holding her hand, and they both smiled at him as he entered the room.

“I’m sorry, Vic,” he babbled.

“Lucas, breathe,” Mum butted in.

“The baby’s going to be ages,” Vic agreed. “Did you have fun at the fire?”

He paused, took a breath, and smiled. “Yeah, it was satisfying. Nearly under control.” He took a seat on Vic’s other side, lacing their fingers together and then leaned in and kissed her. “Deb sends her best. 19 sends their love.”

He hesitated, not really wanting to tell her, but she picked up on it and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I had to yell at your team on the scene,” he said. She would find out anyway. “Sully’s going to have to rake them over coals. I radioed Deb to meet me for handover, and they left their positions to find out what was happening.”

Vic’s eyes narrowed. “They what?!! I’m sorry,” she said, sounding furious. “That’s so…inappropriate.”

“Yeah, we’re definitely blaming the pregnant woman for it,” Lucas said dryly. “Anyway. Just so you know.               At least they were on aid car duty—”

“That’s no excuse –” suddenly his fingers were gripped tightly and Vic took a sharp breath in.

“What do I do?” Lucas asked, feeling helpless. He hated feeling helpless.

“Just hold my hand,” Vic said through gritted teeth. As the contraction passed she slowly exhaled, and flashed him a fake-bright smile. “It’s fine, it’s really not too bad right now.”

Lucas gazed at her for a moment, before leaning back in for another kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he said affectionately.

“I know,” Vic replied. “Now hand me my phone. I’m going to text Travis.”

“Vic, I don’t want you to worry –”

“I’m not worrying. Luke, this is exactly what we said we wouldn’t do, compromise how we do our jobs. I’m not going to let them do it either.”

“No, and _this_ is something we also said we wouldn’t do – let what each other says about work affect our interactions with our colleagues,” Lucas said firmly. “I have yelled at them. Sullivan will yell more, and make them clean the station with a toothbrush. You don’t get involved.”

Vic didn’t look at all happy about it, but she said nothing. Lucas sighed.

“Have you seen a midwife?” he asked softly, trying to change topics.

“Four centimetres,” she said brusquely.

“When did they start?” he probed. Vic sighed and turned to look at him.

“This morning,” she said. “I wasn’t sure though.”

The thing he’d learnt about Vic, from years together, is that she could hold a grudge. She was good at bottling up things that were personal or important to her, and the best thing to do if she was angry was actually to keep prodding her to let it out.

Otherwise it festered and was a lot worse later.

“Then I was at four minutely contractions for a bit at home,” Vic continued after a moment. “Then I called Mum to pick me up.”

“I didn’t need to be at the fire,” Lucas said quietly.

“Yeah but if they were just going to – ah,” she hissed through her teeth, clamping down on his hand again. After a minute or so she relaxed and continued, “if they were just going to send me home, I didn’t want to pull you from work.”

“Vic – ” Lucas sighed, but she’d tightened her grip on his hand again. “Never mind.” This was not the time; and after all, he figured he had gotten to the hospital without missing anything major so he needed to let it go right now.

She exhaled slowly, slowly loosening her grip on his hand.

“I want to walk around,” she said abruptly as the contraction ended, swinging her legs over the bed.

Lucas shot an alarmed look at his mother, who’d just been sitting there quietly while they bickered.

“Sure, honey,” Mum said breezily. “Whatever you like. I’ll hold the back of your gown for you.”

So Lucas let her lean on his arm and they wandered up and down the hall.

After a couple of circuits (with one pause for a contraction), Vic returned to their room and sat back down on the bed. Lucas shrugged off his work blazer, and then unbuttoned his work shirt, leaving his white t-shirt on, laying his clothes on top of the bag.

“We don’t have a change of clothes for you,” Vic said suddenly, watching him.

“I’ll drop by after the next check, get anything you forgot,” Mum assured them.

“I haven’t said thanks, Mum,” Lucas said abruptly. “Thank you.”

His mum simply smiled, putting an arm around Vic’s shoulders and squeezing tight. Vic leant into the embrace.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Vic said quietly, sounding choked up. “Thank you.”

“My beautiful girl, I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Mum said quietly, kissing the top of Vic’s head.

Lucas felt like his heart could burst, watching the two of them together. He had an inkling of what it meant to Vic; she didn’t speak about her own mother much but he got the impression that when her mom had gotten sick, she’d not always been pleasant to Vic. Despite the fact that Vic had dedicated a good few years to looking after her.

But he knew Vic missed her own mom still, and Lucas couldn’t blame her.

“Hello, Victoria,” came a cheery voice from the door, and the three of them looked over to see a young midwife. “Time for your check. Can I get you lying back on the bed please? Is this Dad?”

“Hi, Nancy,” Vic smiled.

Lucas knew he must have looked stupid, but at the prospect of being called Dad for the first time, he couldn’t help but beam.

“Nearly five centimetres,” Nancy reported a few minutes later. She smiled at Vic. “You’re getting there, honey.”

* * *

Hours went by, punctuated by visits from the midwife (Nancy’s shift ended when Vic got to seven centimetres, and was replaced by a lady called Steph) to report on the progress of Vic’s labour.

Vic’s waters had broken as she got to six centimetres. Although Lucas knew intellectually it was normal, he couldn’t help the automatic alarm that he felt on seeing what seemed like gallons of water running down his wife’s legs.

“That’s really weird,” Vic said staring down at the clear fluid. “It just…came out…”

“You okay?” he asked, gripping her hand again. She nodded.

“It’s just weird.”

As the night went on, Vic’s pain clearly increased, but she continued to decline an epidural. Lucas had never felt so helpless or useless, and as her contractions increased in frequency and severity he knew they were close.

“I think I want to push?” she exclaimed suddenly after a particularly painful contraction had hit. Lucas immediately hit the call button.

The midwife and their obstetrician hurried back into the room.

“All right, Victoria,” said Dr Hooper, sitting back after checking Vic’s cervix. “You’re at ten centimetres, so if you feel like it, you can start to push with the next contraction.”

Vic looked at Lucas, and he leant forward to brush hair back from her forehead which had stuck there with sweat.

“We’re going to have a baby,” she said, sounding half-terrified and half-excited.

“I know,” Lucas said with a broad grin, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “You’re doing so amazingly.”

Lucas lost all track of time. It seemed to be both forever and no time at all (later he would learn that Vic had pushed for just over an hour). His world had contracted to simply holding his wife’s hand and holding her through each contraction as she used all her strength to push.

And then all of a sudden, Vic seemed to relax.

“The baby’s out,” said one of the ten people in the room (Lucas wasn’t sure who they were, when they had gotten there, or why they were there). He held his breath until a lusty cry split the air.

“Congratulations, Mom and Dad,” said Ellie Hooper with a smile. “You have a beautiful baby girl!”

And a baby, sticky from birth, was placed on Vic’s chest. Lucas looked at his daughter, and then at his wife, unsurprised to see her grinning through her tears. He knew his expression matched hers, with a wide smile, and tears rolling down his cheeks.

“We have a daughter,” Vic breathed to him.

“My amazing wife,” Lucas said back, investing as much of the love and pride he had for into those three words as he could. His hand shook a little as he reached out and stroked his daughter’s back. “Hi, baby girl.”

“We’ll clean her up,” said one of the people in the room after a few moments, reaching gently down to the girl. “Do you want to cut the cord, Dad?”

He was a bit loathe to leave Vic, but she nodded at him and so he got up and stepped away to follow his baby, watching as the paediatrician quickly checked the baby over. The paediatrician handed him a pair of scissors and indicated where he needed to cut. It was tougher than he’d realised to cut through the cord, but he cut the stump as close to the clamp as he could before handing the scissors back.

Distantly, he heard Vic being coached through delivery of the placenta.

“She’s healthy, eight and a half pounds and twenty-one inches long,” said the paediatrician with a smile to him. “Congratulations, Dad. We’ll come back later and do a full check again before you leave the hospital.”

“Shall we see if this little one is hungry?” Steph asked, picking up his daughter and taking her back to Victoria. Lucas trailed along.

They placed the baby on Vic’s chest again, and helped direct her to a nipple. The baby latched on immediately, her cries stopping as she sucked.

“Look,” Vic said excitedly. He nodded back to her, leaning down and kissing her forehead and then briefly her lips.

“Okay the placenta’s out, Victoria,” reported Dr Ellie. “Now, you do have a tear here that I just need to stitch up.”

Vic just nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from their baby at her breast.

It was all a bit of a blur, but eventually all the staff members left the room. Once their daughter had stopped feeding, the midwife Steph wrapped her again and handed her to Lucas and helped Vic clean up.

“Get Mum in,” Vic said, after she had been resettled in bed. Lucas immediately handed her back their daughter and dialled his Mum’s number.

“I’m a dad!” he said as she picked up. “Come in!”

Vic smiled tiredly at him as he hung up again. “You could’ve told her she has another grand-daughter.”

“Right,” Lucas said dumbly. “Oh well. She can find out when she gets in. Hey, we’re evening the numbers!”

Vic nodded. “Your nieces will be delighted.” His three nieces were heavily outnumbered by his seven nephews, and the girls had been excitedly asking for a niece.

Lucas hadn’t really had a preference, but now that his daughter was here he couldn’t imagine a son.

“She’s perfect,” he said, reaching out with one finger to trace her face. Her features had started to look a little less squashed, and she had a surprising amount of black hair which at the moment was slick against her head but he knew would be curly.

His mum bustled into the room about ten minutes later, heading straight for Vic and gave her a kiss and a hug around the shoulders.

“Congratulations, darlings,” Julie said, already crying.

“Meet your grand-daughter, Mum,” Vic said, offering her the baby. His mum didn’t need to be offered twice, and the baby was scooped into a practiced embrace.

“We need to decide on her name,” Vic said, looking at him. They'd had a short list of four names, and had agreed to see the baby first. Lucas said his preference, and was glad to see Vic grin broadly.

"That's what I thought too!"

* * *

 

The door was open, so Robert entered. He couldn’t help but tease, “and that’s how you ended up in this mess,” when he saw them.

Luke was sitting half on the bed, with his arm around Vic and the other hand helping support a bundle of blankets (in which Robert assumed there was a baby). The two of them were busy kissing, but on hearing Robert’s words, broke apart with a laugh.

“Hi, Sully, everyone,” they’d both clearly been crying, and they looked exhausted. “No, I think one’s enough for now.”

“For now?” Hughes asked, sounding exhausted. “Try for at least another few years. I need to forget all of that first.”

“We wanted to say, before anything else,” Herrera spoke up as Robert shot her a pointed look. “That we are all sorry for yesterday, Chief.”

“It was unprofessional and inappropriate of us,” Montgomery added, before the others all chimed in with a sorry.

“Never do it again,” Hughes said sharply after exchanging a quick look with Ripley. He nodded grimly.

“That will be the end of it,” he said, withdrawing his arm from around Hughes’ shoulders. She handed the baby over to Ripley, who cradled his daughter gently before sliding off the bed. “But as a result, Sully gets her first.”

He stood, and moved towards Robert. “Alexandra Louise Ripley,” Lucas crooned to the baby. “Here’s Uncle Bobby.”

Robert had automatically reached out to take the baby, but at Luke’s words, froze a little, looking to his best friend. Lucas had not called him Bobby since before…

Lucas nodded back at him, so Robert looked to Hughes, who was grinning broadly at him. He looked down at the baby, trying desperately not to let the tears welling in his eyes show.

“We’re calling her Alex,” Victoria said to the team, but Robert kept his focus on the precious parcel in his arms.

“Hi Alexandra,” he said, gently touching her cheek with his little finger. The baby yawned.

“She’s beautiful,” Robert was not someone who automatically thought all babies were cute. Most of them came out looking kind of scrunched and weird, but this light brown baby was sweet. She had Victoria’s nose, that much was clear, but her dark hair had softer curls like her Dad. Robert automatically adjusted his grip, bending his knees a little to show her off to the team.

“How big is she?” asked Herrera.

“She was eight and a half pounds, twenty-one inches,” Vic said, sounding exhausted, and Robert glanced up to see that Rip had sat back down on the bed and had wrapped his arm around her again, with her burrowing into his side. “I’m so tired.”

“Have you had any sleep?” Montgomery asked in concern, coming over to the bed. He enveloped both of them in a quick hug, pecking Vic on the cheek as he drew back.

“I got about three hours after she was born and fed?” Vic said, looking at Rip. “And then I dozed again for another hour or so. Luke’s not had much though, in the chair?”

“I got an hour or two,” he assured her. “Had to drop home to take Lucy out and feed her.”

“I can do that for you until you’re home,” Robert offered immediately.

“Thanks, but Mum’s on it,” Lucas replied. “But she was bonding with her grand-daughter and I needed to change anyway. I’ll need to put a bag of clothes for me in the car next time.”

Vic rolled her eyes at him. “Stop talking about ‘next time’,” she chided gently. “My pelvic floor –”

“Hughes, I don’t want to hear about your pelvic floor,” Robert said pre-emptively. Vic laughed, then winced.

The baby in Robert’s arms started to shift, and he looked down automatically to see her blinking up at him.

“Her eyes are blue!” Robert exclaimed, and immediately his team were all uncomfortably close around him, leaning over to try to see.

“Beautiful Ripley blue,” Vic confirmed, before adding in a disappointed voice, “the doctor thinks they will darken to brown though, sadly.”

“Not sadly,” Lucas said immediately. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Gross,” Miller said automatically.

“Stop being a pest, Miller,” Ripley and Hughes replied in unison, glancing at each other in surprise and then laughing. Or at least, Lucas laughed while Vic alternated wincing and laughing.

“Your brother’s eyes were light, weren’t they?” Bishop spoke up, looking at Vic.

“They’re a mix of colours,” Vic replied. "Hazel."

“Greeny-blue on the inside, darkening to brown on the outside,” Lucas added.

“How much time have you spent staring into my brother’s eyes?” Vic asked in mock alarm. Lucas laughed.

“I didn’t think now was a good time to tell you, darling, but…” he teased. “Nah, he and I talked about it earlier while you were sleeping through his visit.”

“Still can’t believe you let me drift off while he was here. My dad had the same colour eyes as Mike,” Vic said. “Courtesy of his father. Mom’s eyes were dark like mine, though her dad apparently had blue eyes.”

“Apparently?” Gibson asked curiously.

“My family has not historically fared well with white men,” Vic said dryly, before glancing at Lucas. “Until now, I guess.”

“Glad I can meet the minimum required standard of basic consent,” he said sombrely. She reached up and stroked his beard affectionately.

Robert figured he probably should hand the baby on to someone else, but he just wanted to take another little moment. Looking at her, he felt the absence of Claire grip his heart a little more. If she’d lived, they would have had children. And it would have been him bestowing the title of _Uncle Luke_ on his best friend.

He was glad to find he didn’t begrudge Lucas this, though.

Robert had known Lucas through two marriages and more than twenty years. He’d seen the other man happy, but never quite as _content_ like this; the kind of steady happiness that comes from the day-to-day rather than big events like weddings or proposals or the first couple of months of marriage.

And while their friendship was never going to be the same, it was different and still strong now, and Robert knew that if anyone ever tried to hurt this child, this precious child, he would murder them.

But, he could see Montgomery restraining himself from reaching out and snatching the baby from him, so Robert briefly kissed the baby’s forehead, and turned to his team.

“Who’s next to hold this beautiful baby?” he said, trying not to let his emotion show.

Montgomery didn’t bother to respond; instead he essentially snatched the baby from his arms. And started cooing gobble-de-gook at her.

“Alexandra Louise?” Robert asked, looking at his friends.

“I like names that can be shortened,” Hughes replied. “I like that I could have been Vic, Vicky, Tori, Toria, Victoria…it gives a bit of variety. And Alexandra can be Alex, Alexa, Ally, Lexie, Sandy…which is great.”

“And Louise is actually both my Mum and Vic’s Mom’s middle name,” Rip added. “We kind of liked that idea of honouring them with a family name.”

“Aw,” to Robert’s surprise it was Miller who said that. (He suspected Montgomery was too engrossed in baby-talk to have noticed). Miller looked a little embarrassed, and quickly added, “although Rupert would’ve been a good choice too.”

Ripley laughed. “Tell you what, if we have a boy…we’ll consider it.”

“And say no, we are not naming any of our children Rupert,” Vic said firmly.

“How’d the scene go?” Ripley turned to Robert and asked. “I obviously wasn’t able to follow it.”

“Gee, Rip, what else could you want to do?” Robert asked sarcastically. “You had it pretty much contained by the time you left, so it was mostly just a couple of little pockets then overhaul. Rest of the shift went well, minor stuff only.”

“Were you the one who called Reynolds?” Luke asked.

“No, Frankel called him shortly after you left,” Robert replied. “Why?”

“I only remembered to call him a few hours later,” Luke explained. “He said, _go be with your labouring wife you stupid idiot_ and hung up on me.”

Robert laughed.

“Lucas?” Vic interrupted quietly. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Robert was a little confused, but watched without asking as Lucas immediately got off the bed and circled around to the other side. She gingerly moved out of bed, grabbing onto his arm as she got up off the bed. Hughes leaned on him heavily as the two slowly walked towards the adjoining bathroom.

“You’re all right with the baby?” Robert was touched that Ripley looked directly at him, and he nodded.

“I’ll stop Montgomery stealing her,” he promised.

“Thank you,” Hughes called over her shoulder.

As the two new parents disappeared in the bathroom, Miller inched closer to Warren.

“Is that normal to not be able to walk alone?” he hissed in concern. “I mean, we don’t exactly let pregnant women walk after they’ve delivered, we bring them to hospital.”

“Vic’s tall but she’s not exactly…” Warren blushed. “I mean, her hips aren’t super broad and they’re both very tall which can result in cephalopelvic disproportion.”

Miller looked at him blankly.

“They’re tall, and their baby’s big, man,” Warren simplified, pointing at the bundle still being cooed at by Montgomery. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s been a tear.”

Everyone winced.

“Off the topic of Vic’s pelvic floor,” Bishop said hastily. “Come on, Montgomery, hand her over.”

Montgomery pouted, but Robert levelled a pointed look at him.

“I’ll be your favourite uncle,” Montgomery said to the baby, brushing a gentle kiss to her forehead before handing her along to Bishop.

Bishop had handed Alexandra over to Herrera (she had, however, not cuddled the baby as long as Robert or Montgomery) by the time they heard the toilet flush next door. A few minutes later, Vic and Lucas hobbled out of the bathroom, and he helped her back to bed.

“See, already she doesn’t need us,” Vic commented lightly.

“The moment she cries, she’s yours,” Andy said, but with a soft grin that belied her words. “Aunty Andy does not do nappy duty.”

“Neither does Mommy,” Vic said with a grin at Lucas. Robert laughed at the look on Rip’s face.

“Yes, Daddy gets the joy of meconium,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “And she peed on me this morning.”

Andy offered the baby to Miller who looked somewhat ridiculous cradling such a small human in his gigantic arms.

“Hey baby Rupert,” he cooed with a silly grin. “That’s your real name. Mommy and Daddy were foolish and didn’t listen to Uncle Dean when he suggested it.”

“She’s a girl, Miller,” Ripley rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a pest,” Vic repeated.

After a few minutes, Miller offered her to Gibson, who looked a bit alarmed.

“I’m good,” he said, putting his hands up. At everyone’s puzzled looks, he looked a bit sheepish. “You know. She’s small. Don’t want to drop her.”

Miller laughed at him, and Robert noticed Gibson tense up defensively. To Robert’s surprise, Lucas got up, and took the baby off Miller.

“Sit down, Gibson,” Luke ordered, nodding to the foot of the bed. Gibson glanced at Vic who nodded, so he obeyed, perching on the edge of the bed. Lucas sat next to him.

“All right, keep your knees together,” Ripley said kindly. “And we’ll just rest Alex there.” Smoothly, he transferred his daughter across to in the little crook between Jack’s legs, her head resting near his knees. “See? You can’t drop her here.”

“She’s just so small,” Gibson said. “Like, I mean, I’ve delivered babies before but she’s … look at her little hands.” He reached out and stroked his little finger against Alex’s fist. Alex reflexively grabbed onto his finger.

“The infamous Gibson charm strikes again,” Vic said fondly, watching Gibson smile in surprise at the baby.

“So this evens up the Ripley family?” Robert asked, trying to move the attention off Gibson. He made a mental note to try to explore the younger man’s odd reaction to the baby later if he could.

“No,” said Vic at the same time as Lucas said, “yes.” They glanced at each other and grinned.

“Alex brings us to a total of four girl cousins,” Vic explained to the rest of the team. “And seven male cousins.”

“Are your nieces excited, then?”

“Beside themselves,” Lucas said. “I’ve received excited phone calls and they’re planning on tag-teaming visits after school this afternoon.”

“How long before you get to go home?” asked Herrera.

“Well, Alex is feeding well, so they said whenever we felt comfortable,” Vic replied. “I’d like to be able to get to the bathroom by myself first though. Tomorrow afternoon or the day after probably.”

“Warren, you haven’t had a turn,” Gibson said quietly, looking up at the other man.

Warren immediately leaned in, expertly scooping the baby off Gibson’s lap. Robert watched as his lieutenant leaned up the bed to peck Vic on the cheek.

“She’s beautiful,” he said quietly. “And lucky to have you as parents.”

They both beamed.

“It’s utterly terrifying and wonderful,” Vic admitted, looking at the baby who had started to fuss in Warren’s arms.

“Warren, you upset her!” Montgomery exclaimed.

“Shhh baby girl, shhh,” Warren urged, bouncing gently to no avail.

“Nah, she’s due a feed,” Vic said, reaching up to the strap of her tank top. Robert immediately averted his gaze as Warren handed the baby back to her. Once he heard the sound of little Alex feeding enthusiastically he looked back up in time to see Luke kiss his wife’s forehead.

“How often does she need to be fed?” Miller asked.

“Every two to three hours,” Vic replied, sounding exhausted.

“That’s … a lot,” Montgomery said.

“Well, being born is tiring for her as well,” Lucas pointed out.

“The aim in the first couple of weeks is just to keep her at her birth weight,” Vic added “Most babies lose weight in the first week after being born.”

“Oh, hello everybody,” Robert looked to see Lucas’ mom enter the room, giving a broad smile as she carried in a bag with something that smelled delicious.

“Oh, Mum, is that your spag bol?” Lucas asked, looking delighted.

“Victoria needs to keep her energy up,” Julie replied. “But I guess you can have some too. And I passed this little bakery so I got you this mini-cheesecake too, Vic.”

“You’re the best, Mum,” Vic beamed at her. “Thank you!”

“How’s she feeding?” Julie pushed past the firefighters, setting the bag of food on the bedside table.

“Good, she latches on well, but she just tends to fall asleep and I’m not sure if she’s actually still hungry or just sleeping?” Vic half-asked.

“No, darling, they often fall asleep on the boob,” Julie replied briskly. “Lucas was a terrible sleeper, the only way I could get him to shut up was to comfort feed him.”

“Mum, I’m these people’s boss,” Ripley objected, as everyone laughed.

“Darling, you’re forty-six years old and you’ve just had a baby. I’m going to be telling your poor wife all the terrible things you put me through so that she has an idea of what she’s in for,” his mother replied.

“She’s on my side,” Vic said smugly. Lucas rolled his eyes at her.

“Everyone’s on your side, hon,” he said.

“Well, we should let you be,” Robert said, aware of the large number of people in the room, and that Victoria had started to try to hide a couple of yawns.

“Thanks for coming by, everyone,” Vic said with a smile.

“Can I drop by tomorrow?” Montgomery asked.

“You’re all welcome to visit,” Lucas replied. “Just send me a text first because if Vic’s sleeping I’ll tell you to hang on until she’s awake.”

Everyone chorused agreement and paraded by to give Vic a brief kiss and shake Lucas’ hand again. Robert was the last to leave.

“Congratulations,” he said again. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Uncle Bobby,” Victoria said, and he smiled warmly at her before heading out.


	24. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

Andy was surprised to find herself in front of the Ripley household.

She’d sort of been driving around aimlessly, trying to think, and had pulled up outside their house.

Vic _was_ kind of who she wanted to speak to about the whole messy, complicated situation, but Andy wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up. Or ask her.

It wasn’t that she and Vic weren’t close friends; they were. It was just that…well…both of them were closer to other people (her and Maya, Vic and Travis). So if Andy needed to talk to someone about something, it was Maya she spoke to.

And maybe that was part of the problem.

A knock on her window startled her, and she looked up to see Vic, wearing a tank top and shorts waving at her with a big grin on her face not quite hiding how tired she was. Andy reflexively hit the button to wind the window down, and a blast of hot air hit her as she did.

“You just gonna sit out here all afternoon, Herrera, or are you going to come in?” Vic asked in amusement.

“You look tired – I can go,” Andy said, feeling guilty.

Vic snorted. “Andy, I have a four week old baby,” she said. “I’m permanently tired. Come in.”

It _was_ why she was here, so Andy turned off the ignition and dutifully trailed behind Vic into her house.

It was a boiling hot day, but the house was relatively cool.

“Juice, soda, water?” Vic offered, leading the way into the kitchen.

“What kind of juice?”

“Apple.”

“Yes please,” Andy thanked her friend, who reached up to grab glasses from the cabinet. As Vic fished out the apple juice from the fridge, Andy looked around.

“She’s in the living room with Lucas,” Vic answered her unspoken question. “They’re ‘watching’ the soccer.”

Andy peered into the living room, to see a shirtless Chief Ripley with the baby wearing only a nappy resting on his chest. She couldn’t see Alex from where she was, but Ripley looked fast asleep.

“You’re not sleeping?” Andy asked, accepting the glass from the other woman.

“Too hot,” Vic grimaced. She hesitated a moment, before adding, “plus, while I love her like I’ve never loved anyone before, it’s nice to have time without worrying about being with Alex. Lucas does lots, but at the end of the day, I’m the milk machine and the stay at home parent right now. So on weekends it’s nice to have some time away, while he has time with her.”

“How’s she going?” Andy asked, as if she hadn’t visited with Maya and Travis a couple of days earlier.

“She’s good. With this heatwave went backwards a bit – has been waking up four times at night not the two or three she was doing. She’s not even that hungry, she just is hot and cranky,” Vic replied.

“I can relate,” Andy muttered.

“Anyway,” Vic said abruptly, settling down into one of the dining chairs and beckoning Andy to follow her. “You’re not here to hear about Alex’s sleep cycle. What’s up?”

Andy stared at the table for a few moments. “I’m not sure how to ask this,” she admitted.

“Just blurt it out,” Vic said, not unsympathetically. “It always works for me.”

Andy smiled briefly at that. “How did you know?” she asked, trying to just spit it out.

Vic’s brow furrowed. “Know what?”

Andy searched for a way to put it that didn’t sound mean. “If someone had told me five years ago that you’d be married with a daughter now…well, I would have laughed so hard I cried,” she said, uncertainly, glancing unintentionally at the lounge holding aforementioned husband and daughter. “How did you know?”

“Ah,” Vic said, suddenly looking rather more wise than Andy generally thought of her as being. “I didn’t. Not to start.”

“You didn’t?” Andy asked incredulously. “It just seems like it was so easy for you, and you always seemed so sure about him.”

Vic actually laughed. “I guess by the time you found out I was a bit sure about him,” she conceded. “But to start with…” she shrugged. “We actually did literally kind of just fall into bed together.”

“And then?”

“And then we kept sleeping together,” Vic replied. “I mean, I liked him, don’t get me wrong. But I was really there because of his eyes, how good a kisser he is, and how sweet he is. It just sort of evolved from there.”

“That’s what I mean. It just seemed to go so smoothly from you two being strangers to being married,” Andy said.

Vic laughed again. “There was a _lot_ of angst initially. We broke up for a couple of days at one point under the stress of his position and my position. That was just before you guys found out, actually, that we had broken up and got back together.”

“What made you get back together?” Andy asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I missed him,” Vic said simply. “We’ve had our ups and downs. Telling Sullivan was difficult, and awkward. Meeting his first ex-wife Laura was really awkward – at least at first.”

“His _first_ ex-wife?” Andy lifted an eyebrow.

“I actually really like her,” Vic said with a shrug. “She’s sweet and lovely. But I can see why it didn’t work.”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“Not really anymore. It was at first,” Vic replied. “But, I mean, Lucas and Laura have been divorced now for more than half the time that they’ve known each other. They’re really just friends. Kind of high school friends.” Her friend narrowed her eyes at her. “So you might be better off talking to him, really.”

Andy blushed. “It’s just complicated. All I can think about is why we shouldn’t be together.”

Vic frowned thoughtfully. “There were lots of reasons to not be with him,” she said, looking fondly at the lump on the couch. “But there was one really good reason to be with him and that was that I was happier with him. I don’t want it to sound like I couldn’t be happy without him or anything, because I don’t think that’s quite true, but I certainly couldn’t be _as happy_ without Lucas. He’s … well, he and Alex, now… home. When I think of home, or of a holiday, or of a significant event, he’s there.” Vic blushed a bit. “I dreamed about marrying him. Literally had dreams about it because my faceless ‘man’ was him. That made it really simple for me because the benefits outweighed every downside.”

“I just don’t think the benefits outweigh every downside,” Andy said helplessly. “I like his mom, if we break up –”

“You’re overthinking it,” Vic interrupted. “If you were going to die tomorrow, what would you want to do today?”

A wail arose from the living room, and Vic sighed, a soft expression coming over her face as she glanced the living room and then the clock.

“Shhh, shhh,” Ripley’s sleep-heavy voice crooned from the living room. “Okay, baby girl, let’s see where your Mummy is.”

Andy watched as he rolled off the couch and stood, walking towards the kitchen.

“Oh, we didn’t have to go far,” he said, doing a bit of a double take when he saw Andy. “She’s not good at hide and seek. We have a hungry little girl here.”

“Oh sweetie,” Vic said, automatically reaching out for Alex. “I’m not surprised, you slept for a while with Daddy.”

Ripley glanced at his watch, then stretched with a bit of a moan.

Andy, meanwhile had awkwardly averted her gaze from Vic who was casually releasing a breast from her maternity bra to feed, only for her to glance directly at her boss’ boss’ shirtless torso.

[Most of the time, Andy didn’t notice that her ultimate boss and friend’s husband was really hot. Then there were times like this where she couldn’t help it].

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Ripley said, almost apologetically, still sounding a bit dopey.

“You needed it,” Vic said gently. “It’s been a long week. But go put a shirt on, you’re making Andy uncomfortable.”

“Right,” he said, wandering back to the lounge. “Sorry, Herrera.”

“It’s okay, sir,” said Andy, flushing a little as he came back from the lounge in a singlet.

“Did that answer the question?” Vic asked.

Andy looked at her friend who had a baby at her breast and a husband who absently dropped a kiss onto the top of her head as he walked past into the kitchen, and nodded. It was this; if Vic knew she would die tomorrow, she'd want to do this today.

“I think so,” she said.

“Does it help your situation?”

Andy smiled wryly. “Not sure.”

“It is a process,” Vic assured her. “It’s… easier in retrospect.”

“What is?” Ripley asked, putting a box of cereal on the counter and reaching into the packet to pull out a handful.

Vic looked at Andy, before looking back at him. “Girl talk, darling.”

“Okay,” he held his hands up, popping some more rice krispies in his mouth. “What do you ladies feel like for dinner?”

“It’s too hot to cook,” Vic replied immediately.

“I’m happy to,” he said.

“I don’t want the oven, or the stove, or the microwave on,” Vic said melodramatically, shifting Alex to the other breast with a fluidity that Andy had to admire. Vic looked over at Andy. “How do you feel about takeaway sushi?”

“I don’t want to impose,” Andy started, but she was cut off by Ripley.

“Nonsense,” he said, putting the cereal back up into the cabinet and pulling out a beer from the fridge. “Vic’s getting stir crazy with just me and Alex around. Unless you had plans.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“No plans,” Andy said, somewhat sadly.

Vic smiled sympathetically at her.

“All right,” Ripley said decisively. “I’m just going to go and watch the end of the game. Let me know when you want to order.” He ambled back into the lounge and flopped back down onto the couch.

“It never matters what day or what time it is, Lucas can always find ‘the end of the game’ to watch,” Vic said with amused fondness.

“Does he play any?” Andy asked idly.

“Not formally, doesn’t have time. He does have an informal group who get together and play Australian Rules in the park every month or so but…” Vic peered down at her daughter. “You done, sweetpea? Okay. You know Aunty Andy needs to cuddle you. Andy, you happy to burp her?”

“Sure,” Andy said, happily taking the baby and resting her against her shoulder, patting gently. “Hey, Vic? Thanks.”

“Any time.”


	25. Submersion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for themes and language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mention of suicide. Please, if you are feeling down or suicidal, please contact someone. http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines

Lucas takes a deep breath, and enters the station. Vic had expressly told him not to, but for once, he’s ignoring her.

He bounces Alex on his hip, pressing a quick kiss to her head.

“Mommy might yell at Daddy, baby,” he whispers. “But it’s okay.”

It’s Vic’s first shift back from maternity leave, and he’s had Alex all day at the office. His mum had agreed to look after Alex whenever they were both at work (really, she’d instantly volunteered on learning Vic was pregnant) but today she’d had a funeral.

It had been a paperwork and meetings day for Lucas, so he’d decided to just take Alex in. Vic had sternly told him not to bring her around to 19, citing a need to get her head back into work.

The only thing that had kept Lucas going through his first few days at work had been the stream of photos Vic had sent him of their baby. He’d been so busy going from meeting to meeting for most of the day that he’d only sent her a couple of photos of Alex.

So he figures she might want to see their baby. He jogs up the stairs to see 19’s crew having dinner. Vic’s back is to them.

“Evening,” he says awkwardly, relieved when Vic spins around and grins broadly at him. “I know you said not to but –”

“It’s my baby,” Vic cuts him off, standing immediately and hurrying to them. Alex half dives out of his arms to her Mom. “Hey darling girl.”

“I’m so quickly relegated to second place,” Lucas says melodramatically to cover his relief that Vic hadn’t, in fact, screamed at him. Her crew laugh.

“Third place,” Vic corrects him with a flirtatious grin. “Lucy’s second.”

“You hungry, Rip?” Travis gestures to the food in the middle of the table, and Lucas shakes his head.

“I have dinner at home. Alex wanted to see her Mom, so we thought we’d drop by,” he answers.

“Did you have a good day at work with Daddy?” Vic’s asking the baby. Alex babbles excitedly at her.

“We did,” Lucas translates, grinning goofily at his girls. “We went to all the meetings and charmed everyone. We also found all sorts of things in Daddy’s office to slobber over, didn’t we?”

“I’m mostly just glad Kim didn’t steal her,” Vic jokes.

“It was a near thing,” Lucas replies dryly. His PA had been delighted to see Alex, and it had actually worked quite well as Kim had taken her and allowed Lucas to get some paperwork done in the afternoon.

“I was thinking I might take her in again on a paperwork day,” Lucas suggests.

“As a regular thing?” Vic sounds dubious.

“Like once a fortnight or once a month?” he says.

“I just worry if you get called to a scene,” she argues.

“I’ll talk to the Bat Chiefs,” Lucas promises. “See what we can do.”

“We can consider it,” she allows after a moment, offering Alex a forkful of mashed potato. Their daughter immediately slobbers all over her fork, getting mash on her face.

“Did you have a good day?” Lucas asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Victoria looks up from their daughter, admitting, “I missed her a lot.”

Lucas gives her a small smile, placing a hand on her back briefly. They’ve been together for years, now, but he still feels a little uncomfortable displaying affection while they’re in uniform in front of her team.

“I understand,” he says. “I found it hard going back to work after she was born, and I didn’t have the same time bonding with her as you have.”

“I thought I was ready to come back to work,” Vic looks back down at Alex. Across the table, Travis has abandoned his meal in favour of playing peek-a-boo with her, and so Alex is excitedly squealing and clapping as he ‘re-appears’.

“As your husband,” Lucas says carefully. “We can afford for you to –”

“No, no, I’m glad to be back at work. I just missed her more than I realised I would,” Vic says quickly. She pauses before adding, “and I love Mum, you know that, but I was glad to know she was with you today.

Lucas nods, before saying wistfully, “I wish I could retire.”

Vic looks back up at him in surprise. He can see her doing calculations in her head.

“If you really want to we probably could live off your pension and my salary,” she says slowly. “The house is paid off, after all.”

Lucas sighs, and strokes Alex’s soft curly hair. “No, I want to be able to afford for her to go to college.”

Vic heaves a sigh of relief. “I mean, if you wanted to –”

“Victoria, it’s okay, I’m not going to retire,” he says. “Not yet anyway. Gotta pay for our other ten children.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes at him. “I said no more than six. And you keep talking about more children a bare six months after I pushed out this monster.” She kisses Alex’s head gently.

He sticks around for a little, enough time for Alex to be passed around the team. When their daughter starts crying despite ‘Uncle Travis’ making all his silly faces, however, Lucas scoops him out of Montgomery’s arms. Alex settles a little with him, and he kisses her forehead firmly, heart warming that he’s _Dad_ and so has special baby-settling powers.

“Mum’s taking her tomorrow,” he says, as Vic walks him out. He straps her into her seat in the back of the Chief’s car, and Vic leans in to kiss her on the forehead.

“Thanks for bringing her, Luke,” Vic says, standing back up straight and touching his chest. He leans in and kisses her briefly.

“I love you, Victoria,” he says, as he always does when she goes to work and he stays home. “Stay safe.”

“I love you too, Lucas,” she replies with a smile, gently stroking his beard. “Tell Mum I’ll pick her up as soon as I’ve showered.”

“Mum’s happy to take her for the morning, if you have a busy night and need a nap,” he assures her. She looks unconvinced.

“I’ll see,” she says, as Alex gives another wail. “Get this little munchkin to bed. Love you.”

“Love you,” he steals another kiss before hopping into the driver’s seat. “See you tomorrow night.”

* * *

_The Next Morning..._

It’s the last call of the shift. Even with lights and sirens running they’re not strictly supposed to speed in their vehicles.

Given the circumstances, however, Vic leans on the accelerator. They’ve received a call to say that there was a jumper off Ballard Bridge. Then a second call to say that there was a baby with the jumper.

Dispatch have informed them that the Chief was already on the scene and is currently negotiating with the jumper. Vic knows that Lucas had had a meeting up in Ballard, and she figures he was on his way there. They’ve been dispatched to the top of the bridge. Dispatch reports that Fisherman’s Terminal is having trouble starting their boat, and Vic’s stomach twists into knots.

She’s thanking her lucky stars that she and Miller hadn’t quite made it back to the station after their last call out – it means that they’re only a couple of minutes away. She pulls up behind Lucas’ car, and she and Miller jump out.

It all happens so quickly. The jumper is a young woman, and Vic can see her cradling a bundle – presumably the baby – against her chest. Lucas has ditched his jacket, and is slowly approaching the two of them as a couple of PD vehicles scream onto the bridge from the north side.

The woman looks up, sees the PD cars, and hops the railing, jumping feet first. Lucas lunges forward, but can’t grab her, and Vic follows his gaze to FB1 which is still moored at Fisherman’s Terminal.

So of _course_ he dives into the water. Vic feels like she’s going to be sick, and immediately lurches towards the spot he’d jumped from.

“Fuck!” Miller swears, grabbing her arm. “Let’s get down to the bank.”

Miller pushes her into the passenger seat before hopping into the driver’s side. He pushes on the horn, and nearly clips a car as he does a tight U-turn, going back across the bridge and down underneath it.

“Radio it in, Vic,” he orders.

She doesn’t recognise her own voice as she radios in to report what’s happened, requesting additional aid cars. They get to the dock, going as far up the pier as they can, and Vic searches desperately for him in the water.

She can’t breathe.

“He’ll be fine,” Miller assures her, his big hand on her back. “Isn’t he like half-Australian? They swim like fish, right?”

“He’s trying to get the baby,” Vic replies. “If the jumper’s fighting him she could drown him.”

FB1 is _finally_ motoring out from the pier, and Vic glares after it, willing it go faster. It slows as it reaches the middle of the river.

“Chief and child retrieved,” dispatch crackles. “Stand by, A19.”

Vic lets out a sigh of relief, and slumps forward. Dean rubs her back.

“See, he’s okay,” he says again. “Now, let’s get ready. They’ll need O2, and blankets.”

Vic lets him coach her through setting up as if she was a rookie again. They get everything ready as the radio crackles again.

“A19, FB1 will bring two to you now and then recommence a sweep. A18 will be there in a few minutes, they’re just fighting traffic.” FB1 speeds back to them.

“They must be okay or they’d tell us,” Dean says. “You look after your husband until A18 gets here; I’ll look after the child.”

FB1 pulls up to the pier. Relief washes over her in a wave as she watches Lucas walk off the boat, a blanket over his shoulders. He’s carrying a well wrapped up toddler in his arms who is screaming its head off. FB1 immediately motors back out, presumably to look for the woman.

His face blanches as he sees her, and as he hands the toddler over to Dean to look at, her relief shifts to anger.

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?!” she yells.

“Vic –” he tries to say, moving towards her.

“Of all the impulsive, bone-headed things to do,” she continues. “You just _had_ to jump off? You could’ve died on impact! You could’ve broken your back! She could’ve drowned you as you tried to rescue them!”

“FB1 was stuck at the pier for some unknown reason –” he started to say.

“SOME UNKNOWN REASON?! It’s your fucking job to know the reason why 3 couldn’t start their goddamn boat NOT TO JUMP OFF BRIDGES!”

He’s reached her now, and he reaches out to touch her and she recoils back. He looks like she’d slapped him.

She still might.

“What if Alex was in the car with you this morning?” she demands, more quietly. “What, would you have left her in the car and …”

Vic can’t finish the sentence. He shakes his head.

“Well?” she asks.

“I don’t know – there wasn’t time!” he’s on the defensive now. “All I saw was FB1 still moored, and a child going into the river!”

“What about your child!? You think about her? If you’d died –”

“Hey,” he snaps. “Stop being irrational –”

She distantly hears Miller drawing in a sharp breath. 

“IRRATIONAL?! How am I being –”

“We’re both firefighters, Victoria!” he yells. “Our jobs are dangerous. You run into burning buildings for a _living_!”

“Well, yours shouldn’t be!” she screams back. “You’re the Chief. Stop acting the goddamn hero!”

“THERE WAS A CHILD! What the hell did you want me to do!?” Lucas has never looked this angry with her. Or this hurt.

“THINK ABOUT YOUR OWN CHILD!”

“HEY!” Miller interrupts, and their gazes snap to him. He’s holding the child in his arms. “Both of you. Take a breath. A18’s coming down towards us.”

Vic takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and sees Lucas doing the same thing.

“I watched you jump, you asshole,” she whispers, looking up at him.

“What?” he looks suddenly sick.

“We got up to the bridge just as she jumped and I watched you…” she can’t finish the sentence.

“Oh, Vic, I’m sorry,” Lucas’ blue eyes are soft, and she can’t look away as he hesitantly steps forward.

And she bursts into tears and reaches for him.

He’s soaking wet, and freezing cold, but Vic doesn’t care as he wraps her arms around her. She snakes her arms around his waist, and burrows her face into his neck and cries.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he whispers into her ear, peppering kisses over the top of her head, temple, and neck.

“You could’ve died,” she sobs.

“I didn’t, I’m right here, baby,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “Apart from swallowing a whole gallon of seawater, I’m fine.”

“Chief, this little one –” Miller asks. Vic simply continues to cling to her husband.

“I found him almost immediately,” Lucas’ voice rumbles through her. “Lost his mom – I think she must’ve let go as she hit the water. He couldn’t have been under long, and then I kept his head above water the entire time.”

“His chest sounds clear,” Miller reports. “I think he’ll be fine, he’s just cold. I’m going to hand him over to 18. We’ll take you, sir.”

Vic can hear the other aid car pull up alongside. The loud lieutenant (Vic’s pretty sure Bishop’s slept with her) is clearly there as she calls, “Chief! You okay?”

“Fine, Dearborn,” Lucas answers. “Miller’s going to hand the baby over to you.”

“We were supposed to wait for the third vic –” Dearborn starts to argue.

“I’m fine,” Lucas repeats firmly. “The kid needs to get to hospital first.”

“His obs are fine,” Miller reports. “Chief Ripley says he was only submerged for a very short period of time before he got to him. He was screaming his head off when he first came off the boat, but I think he’s just cold. Temp at the moment is 93.”

“All right, we’ll take him out,” Dearborn says.

Lucas is starting to shiver, and Vic’s feeling the chill too, but she can’t quite let go of him yet. Suddenly, a thick blanket is placed over her shoulders.

“All right, Chief, I’m just going to listen to your back, okay?” Miller says, his voice close. “I’m going to have to pull your shirt up at the back.”

Vic’s forced to loosen her grip a little to let Miller do so, and she lets her hands drop to his lower back, caressing his wet skin as Miller snakes a stethoscope up under his shirt.

“Deep breaths,” Miller instructs, and Lucas obliges.

“Couple of crackles in the right side,” Dean reports, and pauses. “How long were _you_ under?”

Vic feels Lucas hesitate. “The kid kept flailing,” he admits. “I went under a half dozen times or so. But I’m not coughing, so I haven’t had a significant near drowning injury.”

Vic shudders and presses closer.

“Anywhere sore?” Dean asks.

“Just generally,” Lucas replies.

He must have hit the water pretty hard from that height, Vic thinks.

“Temperature,” Vic feels his jaw open above her head obediently.

“You’re cold, 92.3,” Dean says. “Vic, let’s get the two of you out of this wind.”

Vic reluctantly steps back, sniffling. She pushes him into the aid car first, and he obediently sits on the gurney as Dean checks his blood pressure. Vic just stands behind Dean, unable to take her eyes off him.

“BP’s good,” Dean says, unnecessarily. “Bit high, really.” (All of them can see that; it’s 151/79).

“Can’t imagine why,” Lucas mutters. He looks up at Vic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not sorry for yelling at you,” she says sternly. He nods. “I…might have been a bit unfair though. In some of it. Only some.”

“I don’t know what I’d’ve done if Alex had been there,” he says honestly. “If there hadn’t been a kid involved, easy question. But with the kid…PD had just got there, I might have just yelled at them that she was in the car. I might not have gone after him. I don’t know.”

She says nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just…couldn’t watch a baby drown. And with no boats in the water…”

Vic sighs, and moves to sit next to him on the gurney, belatedly realising that Dean has made himself scarce and has jumped out of the car, closing one of the doors.

“I know, that’s just who you are,” she says, gently stroking his beard. “I just…I _love_ you. And I need you. So does Alex.”

“I love you both more than anything, you know that, right?” he says, eyes flickering down to her lips.

“You better,” Vic says, leaning in and closing the distance.

She isn’t sure how long they’ve been making out when she hears Miller’s voice again.

“Yeah, well, Vic’s giving him a different kind of mouth to mouth,” he’s reporting, and at that she and Lucas break apart sheepishly. Dean rolls his eyes at them from the door where he’s on his mobile. “Okay, no that sounds fair. Thanks, Captain.” He hangs up, looks at them pointedly, and says, “ew.”

“Sorry, Miller,” Lucas sounds a little embarrassed, and Vic doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s scratching at his beard.

Vic doesn’t apologise, merely tilts her head in a silent question.

“Captain’s sending the next shift in the ladder to relieve us, Vic,” Dean reports, his gaze shifting to Lucas. “Rip, you’re technically hypothermic –”

“I don’t need to go to the ER,” Lucas says immediately, ignoring Vic’s glare. She punches him in the shoulder. “I don’t, honey. I’ve had worse surfing.”

“You just usually surf in warm water. In _Australia_ ,” she mutters.

“All I really need is a warm shower and a change of clothes,” Lucas argues.

“If you’re declining transfer to the ER, then when the ladder gets here the three of us will drive the ladder up to your car and pick it up, and head back to 19,” Dean says. “Sullivan said you’d probably opt out of the ER trip, and he said you can borrow some clothes off him. You’re about the same size.”

L19 arrives soon, and they swap with D shift’s Price and Rodriguez.

There’s a brief argument over who drives what back, but Dean and Vic gang up on Lucas to stay in the ladder where there’s at least O2 if his breathing worsens.

“Fine,” Lucas throws his hands up. Dean grins, and immediately starts to move towards Lucas’ car. “Woah, Miller, where do you think you’re going?”

“I get to drive the Chief’s car?” Dean says hopefully.

“No, I’ll take it,” Vic says. Lucas nods next to her.

“What?! Come on,” Dean objects, a hopeful glint coming into his eye. “Don’t you want to ride with your husband? Please?!”

Vic and Lucas exchange weary glances.

“Speed in that car, Miller, and I’ll bust you back to rookie,” Lucas threatens, levelling a finger at him.

Miller punches the air, and races to the car, obviously worried that he’ll change his mind. Vic and Lucas climb into the ladder. Lucas shifts his blanket over him a bit more, teeth starting to chatter.

“I’m still mad,” she says, turning on the ignition.

“I know,” Lucas says. “I’m sorry you watched me jump. But I’m not sorry that I did what I did.”

“You saved that child’s life,” Vic concedes. After a moment, she reaches over, and takes his hand, squeezing it briefly before returning it to the wheel.

As they pull up into 19, they have a welcoming party. Naturally C-shift have hung around, and she can see the jealousy on Travis’ face as Miller steps out of Lucas’ car, putting his hands in the air triumphantly.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Sullivan says after taking one look at Lucas.

“Thanks,” Lucas’ teeth are chattering in earnest now, and Vic shares a concerned look with her Captain. Vic’s aware she’s starting to shiver as well, and she looks down to see that her clothing is still clearly damp.

“You both need to shower,” Sullivan says. Travis chokes on his coffee. “Separately, please.”

Vic rolls her eyes at the pair of them as Lucas blushes.

“C-can I borrow some dry clothes?” Lucas chatters.

They hurry into (separate) showers. Vic turns hers as hot as she can bear until she feels warm again. She steps out, and dresses with relief into her civvies. She leaves Lucas in his shower, and heads out to find Miller who is, predictably, in the kitchen.

Vic surprises him with a hug. “Thanks, Dean,” she says into his shoulder.

“Told you he was going to be okay,” her friend replies, patting her back.

“Sorry for arguing in front of you,” she says.

“Hey, I was about to punch him for you. I still can?” Dean offers, and Vic laughs.

“No, I’d like him intact, please,” she requests, stepping back.

Lucas emerges into the kitchen, looking small in Sullivan's slightly baggy shirt and trackpants.

"You okay?" Vic and Dean ask simultaneously.

"Yep, nothing a hot shower and dry clothes couldn't fix," Lucas replies. "Hey, Dean, thanks."

"Do that again to her and I'll punch you in the face," Dean warns. Lucas smiles wryly.

"Noted."

"We'll just do up the incident report," Vic says. "You'll need to come home to get changed?" 

"Yeah," Lucas sighs. "I need to ring Kim." 

Vic and Dean write their incident report up, and then the three of them wander out to their cars. Lucas is still on the phone, but he hangs up as they reach the carpark.

"See you next shift," Dean says, and uncharacteristically, gives her a quick half-hug. "Glad you're okay, Rip." The two men shake hands briefly, and Miller disappears into his car.

"Kim's pushed everything back to after lunch already," Lucas reports.

"You need to give that woman a raise," Vic notes. 

"She mentioned that to me as well," Lucas says dryly.

"I'll drive you home, then pick up Alex from Mum's on the way back to getting your car?" Vic offers. Lucas frowns in confusion.

"Why don't one of us just pick her up from Mum's on the way home, rather than coming back here?" he asks. Vic rolls her eyes, steps up to him, and kisses him meaningfully.

She draws back, watching in satisfaction as his eyelids flutter open over wide pupils. "Right. Yes. Okay. Pick the baby up on the way back. Sounds good."

"You said Mum wasn't expecting me till midday?" Vic confirms. He checks his watch. 

"Yeah, we got...ooh, two and a half hours, baby," Lucas says with a smirk.


	26. Happily Divorced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.
> 
> We're jumping back in time - Flashpoints was never intended to be read as a continuous story; it's a whole bunch of random scenes! (I just kind of ended up writing myself into an arc there over the last few chapters).

Vic wished they had more weekends together, but she worked two in four. Even when she wasn’t working, they both had to juggle other commitments; Lucas helped coach his nephew’s baseball team, apparently, and Vic had to keep Station 19 from getting suspicious.

However, this weekend was an off one for the baseball team, and Vic had worked Friday, finishing Saturday. She’d gone to post shift breakfast with the team Saturday morning, and after that point, had the rest of the weekend to spend with him.

So here they were, out for breakfast at a small café on the opposite side of town. He grinned at her over the table as the waiter walked away having taken their order and she smiled back. Vic opened her mouth to say something, but as a middle-aged couple was seated next to them they both glanced over automatically. Vic looked back to Lucas to see him stiffen in surprise.

“Laura!” he exclaimed.

Vic’s mind immediately went to their conversation from last month before baseball season had started when they’d gone camping. Laura, she was pretty sure, was the first ex-wife.

“Lucas!” the equally surprised lady to Vic’s right replied.

“I didn’t know you were in town,” Lucas said, looking uncomfortable.

“I was going to call you –” said Laura at the same time. They both laughed. Vic used that opportunity to study the other woman. She was probably only a little shorter than Vic, with long straight blonde hair, blue eyes. She was beautiful. And glamorous. And Vic couldn’t help but feel a little immature next to her in old jeans and a casual sweater when his ex-wife was wearing a nice blouse, designer label jeans, and a blazer.

“Sorry,” Laura said. “Mom got admitted to hospital so I flew in last night. Pneumonia. Jay and I thought we’d get breakfast then I was going to call!”

“Oh, no,” Lucas said. “Is Cindy all right?”

“Yes, apparently just a touch of pneumonia,” Laura replied, putting air quotes around the diagnosis. “She looks well this morning, but needs oxygen with those little nose things. They said they’d discharge her as soon as she stopped needing that.”

“Oh, good,” Lucas said. There was an awkward pause.

“Anyway, this must be Victoria,” Vic shot an alarmed glance at Lucas as his ex-wife turned to her and offered her hand to shake. Vic took it automatically. “I’ve heard so much about you, lovely to meet you. I’m Laura,” she slid a look at Lucas, “the _nice_ ex-wife. This is my brother, Jay.”

“Hi,” the man across the table had brown-blonde hair and brown eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Vic said, smiling at both of them.

There was another pregnant pause.

“How are the kids?” Lucas asked. Laura beamed.

“They’re good, Chantelle’s in middle school now,” she replied. “And Ryan’s in grade three, which is crazy.”

She pulled out her phone, tapping (with perfectly manicured nails) on the screen to pull up a photo. Laura showed the phone to Vic. “My daughter and son,” she said unnecessarily. They were both cute, with light brown-blonde hair and broad smiles.

“They’re cute,” Vic said, unable to think of anything else to say. Laura turned the phone to Lucas, who obligingly leant forward.

“God they’re so big,” he exclaimed. “I feel old.”

“I know,” Laura groaned, pocketing the phone. “So, Victoria, what made you decide to be a firefighter?”

“Well, I didn’t know right away that that’s what I wanted to do,” Vic said, suddenly anxious to not appear too young for Lucas. “Not like Mr Chief over there.”

“I know,” Laura rolled her eyes, and suddenly, Vic felt a lot less awkward. “He was the only person who seemed to know what he wanted to do when he grew up from freshman year.”

Vic grinned. “I’m just imaging teenage Lucas –”

“He had long hair and braces,” Laura offered.

“Hey, I don’t think I like this,” Lucas objected, but it was with a relieved sort of look.

Vic and Laura exchanged an glance, simultaneously eye-rolling.

“So I only decided to be a firefighter a few years back,” Vic said. “Mainly I wanted to be an EMT, but as I got into it more the firefighting side appealed more and more.”

“What made you decide you wanted to be an EMT?” Laura asked conversationally.

“My mom was unwell,” Vic answered, a little reluctantly. “You get to see a lot of them.” She cast around for a change of subject. “What do you do?”

“I’m a school counsellor,” Laura replied. “Used to be a primary school teacher, but I got sick of that a few years ago so moved into a different role.”

Thankfully they’re interrupted by the waiter coming around to ask Laura and Jay for their orders. Lucas immediately mouthed _sorry_ , but Vic shook her head at him. It really wasn’t his fault after all. She inched her foot forward, and rested it against his calf.

“So, Jay, what are you up to?” Lucas asked, turning to his former brother-in-law as the waiter left.

“Still down in Atlanta,” he replied. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since I got divorced, though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, man,” Lucas said automatically.

“Turns out the Cross family aren’t too good at marriages,” there was more than a hint of bitterness in Jay’s voice, but he gave a forced smile. “Got my own business, now, though. Electrician. Got a couple of guys working for me; it’s doing well.”

“Or the Crosses just have crap taste in men,” Laura sighed. “No offence, darling.”

“Some taken,” Lucas replied, but with a grin that belied his words.

“Anyway, how’s being Fire Chief going?” Jay asked.

“Good. Didn’t lose anyone last year despite a couple of close calls,” Lucas answered, glancing almost guiltily at Vic. “Got a couple of new safety procedures included in the training, and we’re in the process of rolling it out through the existing pool of firefighters.”

“And in terms of safety, have you gotten rid of those awful twenty-four hour shifts yet?” Laura asked, arching a delicate eyebrow.

“Is that something you’re looking at?” Vic asked in surprise.

“Oh, is this not something you talk about?” Laura exclaimed. “See, when we were married, he would never shut up about his work.”

Lucas’ expression closed over, and Vic noticed him retreating behind his Fire Chief mask. “I’m technically her boss,” he pointed out, a little coolly. “There’s an inevitable aspect of conflict of interest we _both_ try to minimise.”

“We only talk very generally,” Vic agreed. “I try to not ask specifics, and I don’t give specifics of what has happened in my shift.”

“I see,” is all Laura said as the waiter brought around coffees for both tables. Vic clutched at hers with both hands.

“But to answer your question, yes, I’m looking at alternative shift arrangements, but more as a way to encourage people to come into firefighting as a profession, particularly women,” Lucas answered. Vic tilted her head, fascinated, as he continued. “We know from the enquiries we get and a couple of informal questionnaires done that one of the big turn off points for women in particular is the unsociable hours they are asked to work, and I suspect that may be contributing to the reducing numbers we see applying from a high five years ago or so. I think that bump was probably due to the increased visibility of Deb Frankel when she was promoted to Battalion Chief, but it wasn’t a sustained increase.”

“If you look worldwide, most countries are moving away from 10-14 shifts to twenty-four hour shifts, and that’s because a twenty-four hour shift is more friendly to your circadian cycle. Our firefighters are _less_ fatigued doing twenty four hours straight than they are doing two consecutive fourteen hour night shifts,” Lucas said.

“Most of the time you sleep on your shift,” Vic added. “In fact, I’ve only had one shift where we didn’t sleep.”

“Skyscraper?” Lucas asked quietly. Vic nodded.

Laura shuddered. “I saw that on the news. It looked like 9/11.”

“It felt like 9/11,” Lucas said soberly, their eyes meeting. Vic remembered what he’d said about their honeymoon, how they’d been in New York on 9/11 and how Lucas had run off to help leaving Laura stranded on the side. It added a dimension to how he must have felt that night, and Vic felt another clutch of guilt for how she'd spoken to him.

“But obviously while perhaps kinder to your sleep cycles, twenty-four hour shifts destroy family schedules,” Jay remarked.

“So I’m wondering if we make a few stations work to 10-14 shifts,” Lucas said. “Or offer the option to people as to whether they want 12 or 24 hour shifts. The problem then is working out rosters.”

“What would you choose, Victoria?” Laura asked, turning to Vic.

“Twenty-four hours,” she said without hesitation. “I also think switching to shorter shifts or mixing the two shifts will impact on team cohesion.”

“You do realise, Vic, your station is abnormally close,” Lucas commented gently. “But I tend to agree, and my preference would be to take the quieter and smaller stations, the ones just with aid cars, and turning them into shorter shifts rather than mixing shifts.”

Laura was shaking her head. “You lot are crazy,” she said, without rancour.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Vic and Lucas’ food. The two of them started eating, and the conversation drifted around to Lucas as a teenager.

“Let me guess,” Vic said, swallowing a forkful of waffles. “He was a boy scout, captain of the football team, homecoming king.”

“How’d you guess?” Laura asked with a smirk.

“Gross, isn’t he?” Jay elbowed Lucas in the side. “Worst thing was, he was such a nice jock that everyone liked him.”

“I was _not_ the captain of the football team,” Lucas hurried to correct.

“Hockey team,” Laura clarified with an eye roll.

“You can talk,” Lucas accused, pointing his fork at her as Laura and Jay’s meals arrived.

“Cheerleading captain, homecoming queen?” Vic guessed, unable to hide a little hint of sarcasm. Laura nodded sheepishly, and Vic rolled her eyes.

“You know how in shows and movies they do that flash back or flash forward and they always end up unhappily married?” Laura asked. “We definitely dodged that bullet.”

“Here’s to being happily divorced,” Lucas agreed, lifting his fork in a kind of salute.

“Don’t get me wrong, Victoria,” Laura said quietly, turning to her. “I don’t regret having been married to him. I’m just very glad I divorced him.”

“They were _not_ happy,” Jay added, before looking wistful, “you guys are happier now in each others’ company than you were then.”

Laura’s face softened as she looked to her brother. “You might get there, Jay,” she said optimistically.

“It took us the better part of a decade to get to this point,” Lucas added.

“Mainly because ex-wife number two was a bitch,” Laura said harshly. “And I refused to talk to you with her in the picture. And she wouldn’t let you talk to me.”

“Laura,” Lucas sighed heavily, expression closed.

“It’s true,” Laura said, turning to Vic again. “Trust me, you don’t ever want to meet her. She’s a piece of work.”

“Laura, I don’t let anyone talk about you that way, and, as much as that whole relationship was a total mistake, I’m not going to let you talk about Eva that way,”

“Such a boy scout,” Vic sighed, rolling her eyes. Laura let out a bark of laughter.

They finished their breakfast, and Lucas gave Vic a look that asked if she was ready to leave. She nodded.

“Well, sorry for surprising you,” Laura said, standing as they stood. “I like her, Luke.  Try not to fuck it up.” She pecked him on the cheek before turning to Vic. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Vic said politely, shaking first her hand and then Jay’s as Lucas also made his goodbyes. As they exited, Lucas reached immediately for her hand.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said with a wince as they stepped out of the café.

“Don’t be, you didn’t know,” Vic replied. “But…you told her about me?!”

Lucas looked suddenly shy. “We’ve been divorced longer than we were together,” he pointed out quietly. “I count her as a friend, and I think it’s polite? to let her know if I’m serious about someone.”

Vic blushed as he glanced over at her.

“You’re serious about me?” she asked in a small voice, unable to hide the surprise and confusion. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on the way to his car and turned to face her.

“I think you are smart, funny, compassionate, brave, loyal,” he listed. “You challenge me. You’re amazing. I don’t pretend to be particularly good with women and relationships, but it doesn’t take much to see that I’m onto a really good thing with you.”

Vic blushed even more, and squeezed his hand, leaning up to kiss him.

“Plus, you’re like incredibly hot,” he said with an impish grin.

Vic grinned back. “I know.” They started walking again. “Laura does seem nice.”

“Yeah. It didn’t work because of my job,” Lucas said with a shrug. “I think in an alternative universe where I wasn’t a firefighter we probably would’ve worked through our issues.” He hesitated before saying, “Eva’s a bit of a different situation though. I…well. I’ve spoken to her maybe half-dozen times since we finalised our divorce thirteen years ago, and the last time was to say that I was seeing you. I’m pretty happy with that state of affairs.”

“She doesn’t live in Seattle?” Vic asked with trepidation.

“No, thank god,” Lucas replied. “She’s in Miami. Laura lives in San Francisco.” They hopped into his car. “In the interests of full disclosure; I had a couple of flings since Eva. Nothing serious. And you’re the first person in the FD I’ve ever…y’know.”

“I would’ve thought the girls would be lining up for you,” Vic said quietly, buckling her seat belt.

He shrugged. “I haven’t been interested in anyone until I met you. Eva…did a number on me, I think.”

“Till me?” Vic knew she sounded incredulous.

“Like I said,” he lifted her chin to look at him directly. “You’re amazing.”

Vic melted a bit. “Well,” she said nervously. “In the interests of full disclosure, I’ve never seen anyone more than a few weeks. And, uh, I slept with a firefighter from 23. Just casually. A couple of times.”

“Okay,” Lucas nodded. He didn’t look thrilled but he didn’t look bothered either, and Vic breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“You’re okay with that?” Vic double-checked.

Lucas shrugged. “I’m hoping how I feel about Mr 23 is how you feel about my ex-wives. I mean, you’re with me at the moment, and that’s the important bit. Do I wish I’d met you before him? Sure. But it doesn’t bother me that you’ve slept with other people before, or that you’ve only had casual relationships before. What matters is our relationship now.”

“Well, I’m glad I met you when I did,” Vic said impulsively. “I don’t think I would’ve been brave enough to try this with you if it had been any earlier.”

“Okay,” he accepted, giving her a teasing grin. “But I can be pretty persuasive.”

Vic laughed. “I know,” she said, leaning in and kissing him.


	27. The New Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for themes.  
> Set a few months after they move in together.

“Um,” Vic began to say before closing her mouth. Travis glanced over at her as he pulled into the parking lot.

“What?”

“Lucas finished early. Do you think…what do you think Gibson would say if I asked him along?” she chewed at her lip. “Sullivan won’t be here as a buffer for him.”

“Item 2: spend more time with your friends. You guys have been living together now for a few months and while you’ve come out with me and Grant and had Andy and Maya over, he’s not come to any team events.” Travis reminded her gently. “I don’t think Gibson would mind. Call and ask – he and Miller will be ages away.”

“We really should just tell everyone different times,” Vic remarked. “You and I always get there more or less on time, Herrera will have dragged Bishop here like fifteen minutes early. Miller and Gibson are at least fifteen minutes late, and only the Lord knows when Family Warren will show up.”

Travis laughed as he turned off the ignition. “What time do you reckon New Guy will get here? I reckon he got here five minutes after Herrera, so feels bad that he was ‘late’.”

Vic rolled her eyes. “Nah, I reckon he’ll be right on time.”

As she got out of the car, she dialled Gibson, “um. Quick question. IsitokayifLucascomeshefinishedearlyinTacoma?” She’s made to repeat the question. “Thanks, Gibson. I appreciate it. See you soon. No, Montgomery and I just arrived – we’re walking in now. Yeah, saw Bishop’s car. Okay. Bye.”

She hung the phone up and Travis elbowed her with a teasing grin as he saw that her calls list mostly consisted of Ripley. “Shut up,” she muttered, before dialling. “Luke, hi! Um, I spoke to Gibson. Do you want to come along? You won’t be late – it’s just me, Montgomery, and the girls so far. Awesome. See you soon.” She glanced shyly at Travis before dropping her gaze to the ground. “I love you too. Bye.”

“Did you tell him about New Guy?” Travis asked curiously. Vic gave an irritated snort at the mention of him.

“No,” she said. “I feel it would be unfair to both of them to do so though. Like, that would be all Lucas knew about him – that and the fact that he’s new.” She slid a glance towards Travis. “I feel I was pretty clear I wasn’t interested, though?”

Travis nodded emphatically. “You’ve been _very_ clear. You outright told him on day two that he was making you uncomfortable.”

“I just felt like that should’ve been enough,” Vic continued as they sat down opposite Andy and Maya. “I feel like I shouldn’t have to mention the fact that I have a boyfriend.”

“Absolutely,” Maya agreed. At Vic’s quirk of the eyebrow, she elaborated. “Andy told me. Also, who asks someone out in front of their lieutenant?!”

“New Guy,” Andy said disdainfully.

“Ripley doesn’t know about the borderline harassment,” Travis said to the other two.

“It’s not really harassment. He stops,” Vic said.

“For a few days at a time,” Travis argued. “He’s been at the station, what, two and a half weeks. How many times has he made you uncomfortable?”

Vic squirmed. “Anyway. I haven’t told Lucas about it because then that would be the only thing he knows about this guy. But also, what with him having to go down to Tacoma and getting called out like three times last week I’ve barely seen him!”

“How is he on call so much?” Andy asked incredulously. Vic rolled her eyes.

“He’s not. But he’s the guy they call anyway. The first time he was on call. The second time he got called was because W – one of the Bat Chiefs didn’t pick up his phone. Had forgotten to charge it. And then the next time was because there was that fire at an office building and the one at the docks at the same time and the on call needed someone to take the second fire,” she shrugged. “It’s because he wakes up nicely and just goes.” She paused. “When you guys are captains, though, for god’s sake don’t tell him details when you call. He won’t remember, he’s still mostly asleep. He’ll get dressed, dive into the car, then call you back anyway to ask where he’s going.”

“Noted,” Maya said. “I mean, I understand. He’s 100% my emergency back up.” Andy nodded in agreeance as Maya continued, “who invited New Guy anyway?”

“It wasn’t me,” said Vic defensively, at the end of Maya’s gaze. “It was Miller this time, accidentally talking about it as he came up the stairs. And then we _had_ to invite him.”

“Incoming,” Andy warned, eyes flickering up behind Vic.

“Evening,” comes Masters’ voice behind Travis and Vic. “Hope you don’t mind me saying that you look amazing with your hair out like that Hughes. Is this seat free?”

“I do mind, actually,” Vic said curtly. “As I said before, not interested. And yes, that seat is taken. My boyfriend Lucas is coming.”

Travis couldn’t quite hide his smirk as he sees the vaguely stunned expression on New Guy’s face. With a sense of offended pride, he moved to sit next to Maya instead. Directly across the table from where Ripley would be sitting.

Andy busied herself pouring water for them all while Maya exchanged a look with Travis.

“You never mentioned a boyfriend before,” New Guy said.

“I don’t talk about my personal business with people I don’t know,” Vic said briskly.

“Here comes the Riptide,” Maya noted. Travis glanced over his shoulder to see Ripley approaching, his eyes (as always) fixed to Vic. He’d clearly just taken off his uniform shirt and thrown a sweater over his undershirt, as he was still wearing uniform pants.

“Hi, Lucas,” Vic’s voice was soft as Ripley took the seat next to her. Travis had been watching New Guy’s face, and was amused to see that the other man’s first reaction was scepticism. (He clearly thought Vic could do better).

“Hey, Victoria,” Ripley replied, beaming at her before she leaned in for a quick kiss. “Evening, ladies, Travis.”

“This is the New Guy,” Vic said as his gaze landed on Masters. “Kevin Masters.”

“I’m Lucas,” Ripley reached across and shook the younger man’s hand.

“Vic’s said nothing about you,” the New Guy reported bluntly. “What kind of work do you do?”

Ripley hesitated slightly, glancing at Vic, and Maya took advantage of that moment to say vaguely, “Oh, he works for council.”

“Oh, in admin,” Masters said knowingly with an air of condescension. “Guess Vic’s the one with all the excitement in her job.”

Travis glanced across to see Ripley looking very amused. “Yeah, it’s mostly paperwork,” the Chief said off-handedly.

Vic was clearly about to interrupt, when the waitress came by for their drinks order. Vic and Maya both opted for colourful cocktails while Travis, Andy and Masters ordered beer. Ripley ordered a scotch.

“Miller will have a bourbon and coke, and Gibson will have a beer,” Andy added hastily. “I’m not sure what Warren or Bailey would want.”

“They’re probably going to get here as we finish dessert, so let’s not worry about it,” Vic joked.

“It’s funny because it’s true,” Travis agreed.

“Yeah, firefighting’s a great job,” Masters continued, oblivious to the amusement on everyone’s faces. “Last week, we went to an apartment building fire. Had to run up to the top floor, where the fire was and...”

“Gibson, welcome,” Andy interrupted, looking pointedly at her watch.

“Sorry we’re late, blame Miller,” Gibson said with a grin. Miller looked offended.

“It’s really not my fault,” he objected.

“Happy birthday, Gibson,” Ripley reached over to shake hands with Jack as he sat down on the other side of Travis. “Thanks for letting me crash your dinner.”

“Thanks, Chief,” Gibson said cheerfully, oblivious to Maya’s groan. Travis glanced at Masters who looked confused and then concerned.  “And you’re welcome, any time. What’ve I missed while waiting for Miller?”

“New Guy was just explaining what his job entailed to Chief Ripley,” Andy said with a poorly disguised smirk. “And yes, Masters, that’s Lucas Ripley. The Fire Chief. Of SFD.”

“The boss’ boss’ boss’s boss,” Miller added. “Did I get that right?”

“If we count me as his boss, then yes. Cos, Lt, then Captain, then Battalion Chief, then you, sir,” Gibson ticked it off on his fingers, grinning broadly.

“You all can do away with the formalities outside of work,” Ripley said.

“Oh I’m sorry, sir,” Masters finally said, looking spooked. Ripley waved a hand, about to interrupt, when Masters continued. “I swear, I didn’t know she was _your_ girlfriend when I asked her out –”

“Woah,” Ripley did interrupt as the table went silent except for Miller and Gibson who both exclaimed in surprise. There was an awkward pause, before Ripley said in the dangerously friendly tone that they all recognised from the debacle that had been Gibson and Herrera’s peer reviews, “why are you apologising to _me_? She’s my girlfriend, not my property.”

There was another moment of silence, as Ripley lifted his eyebrows at the rookie.

“Sorry, Hughes,” Masters mumbled.

“Apology accepted,” Vic said primly.

“But at the risk of sounding slightly hypocritical, in future, don’t ask people from the same station out,” Ripley said. “There’s a reason Battalion Chief Frankel handles your shift.”

“For promotions too?” Andy asked, sounding worried. Lucas chuckled.

“Only for Vic. Promotions are the same as everyone else for the rest of you. And disciplinary is the same as well, unless Vic’s involved in the incident. I’m just not rostered on call when you lot are on shift, and Vic has a separate promotional and disciplinary board,” he replied. “Don’t worry, Herrera.”

“Phew,” Andy visibly relaxed.

“Frankel’s terrifying,” Miller said, shooting a look at the New Guy. “More terrifying than you, Chief, no offence.” Ripley chuckled.

“None taken,” he said. “Frankel’s had to fight hard to get to be Battalion Chief. If the profession’s considered male-dominated now, it’s nothing compared to what it was, and a large part of that is her good work over the years. She's...passionate about her job.”

“Yeah, she dropped by the station on my second day,” Masters said uncomfortably shifting in his seat. There was an awkward pause, before Ripley cleared his throat.

“You guys have been here before?” he asked, opening up the menu in front of him. “What’s good?”

“The pork,” said Miller, as Gibson said, “the shrimp.”

“We’ll get spring rolls to share, right?” Andy said, looking down at her own menu.

“Yeah,” Vic said.

“And some satay chicken,” Miller requested.

Conversation rapidly picked up over what they were planning to order, and Travis glanced over to see the New Guy looking a little sheepish as he watched Vic lean over Ripley’s arm.

“Luke, if you get the beef,” she said. “I’ll get the chicken?”

“Miller said the pork was good?” Ripley said, unconvinced.

“The beef’s good too,” Miller acknowledged.

“I think you’ll find the pork too spicy, honey,” Vic said.

“Okay, well, the beef looks good too,” Ripley agreed immediately.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Warren, as he and Miranda and Tuck wound their way to the table.

“Doctors,” Gibson groaned with a friendly roll of the eyes.

“Happy birthday, Jack,” Miranda said warmly, bustling over to give Gibson a peck on the cheek, before hurrying back to sit at the table. Warren sat down next to the New Guy, while Tuck awkwardly sat next to Ripley.

“Chief, this is Tuck,” Warren said. “Tuck, this is Chief Ripley.”

“Call me Lucas,” Ripley said immediately, offering his hand to shake.

“Hi,” Tuck said.

“You a MCU fan?” Ripley asked. Tuck must’ve replied in the affirmative, because the next thing Travis heard was the two of them launching into an involved discussion.

After they’d ordered, Travis leant towards Vic. “I reckon that’ll be the end of it,” he whispered. “I did enjoy watching him threaten Masters with Frankel.”

Vic grinned. “I’m not going to lie, it was more than a little satisfying,” she whispered back.

"No way," Tuck exclaimed loudly, turning in his chair to fully face Ripley. "If you re-watch the second Thor, it's clear that..."

"Should we be concerned at how well Ripley is bonding with Tuck?" Travis asked in amusement.

Vic rolled her eyes. "He's got like, seven nephews," she explained. "Three or four would be around Tuck's age. He's in his element."


	28. Ex Wife Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For obs3ss1ons, for the idea. I hope you like it - it became more about Vic and Lucas' reaction to Eva rather than anything else which is not quite what I had intended!

“Okay, what’s really going on?” Vic asked in exasperation, putting her hand on her hip as she regarded her fiancé.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lucas replied, unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

Vic gestured around the hotel room. “We’ve been here for two days, and all you’ve done is go to the conference and then stay in the room.”

“We flew in from like 10pm to 9.30 am and then I was at the conference all day until 7pm,” Lucas replied.

Vic narrowed her eyes. “Yes, and then yesterday, you were at the conference from 9 till 6 and said you were still recovering from the day before, and now tonight you’re too tired to even come out to dinner with me?”

Lucas shrugged. “There’s some reading I want to do –”

“Luke,” Vic interrupted. “Don’t pull that crap on me, baby. We’re in Miami. I haven’t flown twelve hours across the country to sit in a hotel room with you.”

“I did say it would be boring,” Lucas replied, pulling on a regular t-shirt.

“Lucas,” Vic snapped at him. She saw the exact moment he caved, as his shoulders slumped and he sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s stupid,” he said. “Look, Eva lives in Miami. I haven’t told her I’m in town, and I really don’t want to accidentally run into her.”

“It’s a big city,” Vic pointed out, rolling her eyes.

“She works downtown,” Lucas replied. The conference was in the downtown, and the hotel they were staying in was only a block or so away.

“So you’re planning to just hide in here the entire time?” Vic asked. He nodded sheepishly. “And you didn’t mention this before because…?”

“Victoria, I don’t want you to come to Miami because that’s where my ex-wife lives?” Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that sounds great doesn’t it?”

“Okay, you have a point,” Vic conceded, moving over to sit next to him. “But seriously, what are the odds we’d run into her? What are you worried about, anyway?”

“I just don’t want her to meet you,” Lucas said quietly.

“Right,” Vic said slowly. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to take _that_.”

“She…she has a way of getting into people’s heads. My head,” Lucas said. “I … Vic, she’s not like Laura. I’m very fond of Laura.”

“You love her,” Vic said easily. He looked at her in alarm. “You’re allowed to still love her as a friend. I’m assuming you’re not still _in love_ with her.”

“No,” he said immediately. “No. But you’re right, I do love her in a way and I will always be glad to have married and then divorced her. But Eva…I just regret that relationship. It was a mess. I rebounded from Laura to her and it was unfair to Eva and I feel bad about that but at the same time she was awful to Laura –”

“And to you,” Vic pointed out. He nodded.

“That was not a clean divorce. It was messy. I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t like her very much, and I’m pretty sure that you won’t like her,” he hesitated, before saying very quietly and sheepishly, “and I just don’t think it would be nice.”

Vic let out a heavy sigh, and put her arm around his shoulders. “You’ve tied yourself in knots over this, Lucas,” she said pragmatically. “There’s like half a million people in this city. We’re unlikely to run into your ex-wife. If we do, I can handle that and so can you because we’re all adults.”

He sighed, looking up from his hands. “You’re right,” he said begrudgingly.

“I know.” Vic smiled smugly at him. He leant in and kissed her firmly. Vic returned it warmly, until he started to press her downwards onto the bed.

“Lucas,” she broke away, and pushed at his chest. “We can have sex anywhere. I’ve never been to Miami before, have you?”

He shook his head, groaning as he flopped onto his back next to her.

“Then let’s go out for dinner,” she said firmly, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at him. She then licked her lips and let her eyes stray back to his lips suggestively. “When we come back we can pick up where we left off?”

“You bribing me with sex?” he grumbled.

“Is it working?” Vic grinned at him brightly.

“Yes,” he pouted, before pulling her down into another slow kiss.

“Okay, baby,” Vic pulled away after a few minutes, a little breathless. “Let’s go.”

He groaned as she stood up, strapping her shoes on, and moving expectantly towards the door.

* * *

 

Ridiculously, Vic’s first thought was that at least this had happened on their last night in Miami. She had managed to coax Lucas for a walk around Miami Beach on their second last day after successfully venturing out for dinner the night before without any Eva sightings.

[She’d never actually had to bribe him with sex before, but Vic was finding it both quite…  motivating… for him and quite rewarding for herself on several fronts].

On their last night they’d decided to go to a swanky seafood restaurant overlooking the water. She’d ducked to the bathroom, and come back to find him more tense than she’d ever seen him as a short woman with dyed red hair stood next to their table.

As Vic approached, she saw Lucas glance at her desperately, and the woman turned around. It could only be Eva.

The infamous Eva was an inch or two shorter than Vic, despite wearing very tall stilettos. Her skirt and low-cut blouse showed off her curves to good advantage, and Vic couldn’t help a flash of jealousy as she was forced to acknowledge that, like ex-wife number one, ex-wife number two was _hot._

“You must be Victoria,” drawled Eva as Vic came up to the table, forcing herself to look as unruffled as she could as she took her seat again. “I’m Eva. Luke’s ex-wife.”

“Good to meet you,” Vic said, forcing a smile. The two women shook hands. Vic had sort of expected the other woman to have a limp grasp, but she didn’t.

“I’d say congratulations on your engagement,” Eva continued, tapping long manicured nails against an Apple Watch. “But it’s really more commiserations. Lucas has a bit of a track record of falling very quickly in love, and sweeping women off their feet with big romantic gestures – a ring, a bracelet, expensive flowers! – that are utterly meaningless as he races off to the next fire.” Her tone was bitter.

Lucas stared at the table.

“I was young too, when I met him,” Eva sighed condescendingly. “I suppose being a firefighter you ‘understand’ some of what his job entails.”

“He’s very good at his job,” Vic said evenly. “And I’m very proud of what he does.”

“That’s sweet,” Eva said. “Anyway. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Here’s my card, Victoria, if you ever need to talk.”

She slid an embossed business card onto the table in front of Vic.

“Thanks,” Vic said flatly and insincerely.

“Good luck, sweetie.” With a flounce of expensive smelling perfume, the other woman marched away.

Vic looked over at Lucas who was still staring at the table.

“Well, did your taste in women take a nose dive in the early 2000s,” Vic said briskly, mentally trying to sort through her mixed emotions.

She didn’t like Eva. That was easy.

She felt a little jealous and self-conscious at how good looking both his ex-wives were, and couldn’t help but feel a little insecure about her own figure.

She was a bit irritated at Lucas for just sitting there like a lump during the entire conversation.

She felt definitely condescended to and it was hard not to feel a little young when Lucas looked so old in this moment.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered to the table.

Also, Vic was a little perturbed by Eva’s comment about Lucas being one for big romantic gestures.

“I mean, you did buy me that lovely set of earrings for my birthday,” she thought out loud. “But you’re not really a big gesture person normally.”

Lucas half-shrugged. “I… I used to do that. It used to get me out of trouble. But I think, well, I’m a bit – was a bit – am a bit nervous about how me buying you expensive things when I’m older and have rank would be perceived as buying or paying for you...or I don’t know. Something a bit off. When really from the start I just … I was half in love with you the moment you yelled at me during the peer review.”

He looked up to gauge the impact of his words. Vic said nothing. “So I guess I tried to focus on what you wanted and tried to do that,” he said, somewhat embarrassed.

“I’m just sitting here processing the fact that the reason you’re such an excellent boyfriend slash fiancé is because of relationship advice given to you by that woman,” Vic said, leaning across the table. “But do feel free to buy me more pretty jewellery like those earrings.”

Lucas grinned a little. “Okay.” He still looked a little off.

“Luke, you know I meant it,” she said softly. “I’m so _proud_ of you, and the job you do, and the dedication you have to it. You wouldn’t be the man I love if you weren’t the Fire Chief.” She paused, wincing as she heard how that sounded. “Not, I mean, that it was because you were the Fire Chief,” she added hastily. “Just that that’s such a huge part of who you are and who I fell in love with – that you work so hard because you give a damn and want SFD to be better.”

Lucas blushed a little, still looking down. “I do fall in love quickly,” he admitted quietly. “I asked Laura to marry me because we were in love, and we were young and I didn’t want our relationship to end because we were leaving high school. I asked Eva to marry me because I was in love with her and I thought I knew where I’d gone wrong with Laura.”

He paused, and looked up at her. “Look, I did fall in love with you quickly. I haven’t felt like this for over fifteen years. I think you’re amazing in every respect. I want to marry you because I am in love with you, and I know we communicate in a way I’ve never communicated with anyone. I know that for the first time I’ve found someone who, if you asked me to, I would give up my job because I love you so much more than I care about my job. Maybe it’s partly because I know what being Fire Chief Ripley is like, and it’s good, but I haven’t been Mr Hughes and I want to be that more.”

Vic tried very hard not to swoon. She didn’t really have the words, so she simply reached across to squeeze his hand and told him simply that she loved him.

She left the business card where Eva had placed it.

* * *

 

The next morning as Lucas was checking out, she texted Laura.

_Met ex-wife 2 last night; accidentally bumped into her in Miami (Luke had a conference). You are definitely the nice one._

Vic was a little surprised when bare minutes later, Laura called her.

"Hi," Vic answered.

"You poor thing," Laura said sympathetically. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Vic replied. "I think I kind of expected worse? I'm not saying it was pleasant..."

The other woman laughed. "Well, whatever she said to you, ignore at least fifty percent of it. I've known Lucas more than half our lives. He's in love with you. You make him happier than either of the two of us ever did, and that's all I want for him."

Vic smiled. "Thanks, Laura," she said earnestly. "I... I hope it's not weird to say that I appreciate your... support?"

"You can call me any time he's being an idiot, too," Laura assured her. "Very happy to let you vent about him."

Vic grinned, as Lucas turned back to her. "I'll keep that in mind."

 _Who's that?_ Lucas mouthed to her.

"Laura, Luke says hi," Vic said, instead of replying, and his ex-wife returned the greeting."She says hi back."

Lucas looked a little uncomfortable but nodded.

"I've got to go, Vic," Laura said. "But you guys have a good day. Take care."

"You too," Vic said. "Thanks for calling."

"Do I want to know?" Lucas asked nervously as she hung up.

"Your first wife and third-wife-to-be agree that your second wife is the bottom of this group," Vic said brightly, taking his arm. "Now, let's go home."


	29. Irish Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for a couple of naughty words, repeated mentions of sex, and ridiculously over-cute belated Valentine's Day fluff.

For once, Ben wasn’t the last to know.

In fact, he knew before anyone, including Vic, clearly, as she stared at him in surprise.

“What?” she said, sounding alarmed.

Ben had to stop. “Aren’t you? The smell of coffee makes you nauseated, you’re picking at breakfast…”

“But…” Vic stopped, blushing a little. She glanced around, and after reconfirming there was no one else in the turnout room, continued, “I’m still breast feeding. Alex is only eight months old, and I haven’t started…well…haven’t started having my periods again.”

Ben closed his eyes, willing himself not to go red. He’d been fine discussing this with patients, but with a friend it was different.

Particularly when that friend happened to be married to your boss.

“Well, breast feeding isn’t actually contraception,” he pointed out. “And it’s possible to get pregnant on your first ovulation after giving birth.”

“I know,” Vic sighed. “But we’ve been careful to use condoms.” There was a pause, and then she blushed. “Apart from that one time. Oh and – well. _Mostly_ careful.”

Ben felt his face go red. “I really don’t want more information,” he said quickly.

“Shit,” Vic sighed, and slid down to sit on the ground.

“You’re not happy?” Ben sat down next to her, putting an arm over her shoulder.

“No, I just…I don’t know how Lucas will react,” she said quietly. “I’m not eligible for more maternity leave until I’ve been back at work for at least twelve months, and if I’m pregnant again then it’ll have to be unpaid leave which isn’t exactly what we planned _and_ we’ll have a, what, not even eighteen month old at home as well and…”

“Woah,” Ben interrupted. “Aren’t you overthinking this just a bit? You’re not even sure you’re pregnant.”

“I feel pregnant,” she admitted. “As soon as you said it I was like…oh god, I am.”

Ben eyed her for a moment before pulling out his phone.

“Let me call my wife,” he said. “I’ll ask Miranda to bring you a pregnancy test. We can find out so you’re not worrying all shift – and if you are, we’ll get you off the engine today.”

“Thanks, Warren,” Vic said warmly, resting her head on his shoulder briefly. “If she doesn’t mind, that would be amazing.”

Unsurprisingly, Miranda was more than willing to help. She turned up a couple of hours later during lunch, carrying a bag.

“Victoria,” she called across the dining hall. “Can I ask you something about a patient you brought us last week? And Ben, I’ve got you clean clothes. I can’t believe you were planning to just wear your gym clothes after this shift!”

“Thanks, baby,” Ben got up, and Vic trailed behind. The three of them headed down the corridor.

“If you like, you can take it now,” Miranda said quietly as they reached the stairs. “And I’ve brought some supplies to take blood – I can run off a quick hCG when I get back to the hospital to tell you how far along you are if you like.”

“Let’s see if she is first,” Ben said hastily.

“I think I am,” Vic said to Miranda who nodded. “Thanks so much, Dr Bailey.”

“No trouble, honey,” Miranda handed her the box, pushing her into the bathroom.

It had never ceased to amaze Ben how long three minutes could be. They could hear Vic’s phone beep, and she opened the door.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

And promptly burst into tears.

Ben looked at his wife in alarm.

“Go upstairs, and make it seem like we’re having a long conversation about a patient you two brought me last week,” Miranda said immediately. “Honey, let’s sit and chat.” With that, Miranda pushed into the bathroom with Vic.

Ben hurried back up the stairs, taking a seat back at the table.

“Last week she and I took a young boy into Grey Sloan,” Ben lied in response to Herrera’s question. “Miranda told me … he had a bad outcome… but she figured she’d tell Vic in person. He was a lovely kid. She was going to say at breakfast tomorrow but thought she might do it now, not in public.”

The rest of the table nodded in understanding, and thankfully said nothing to Vic when she came upstairs about five minutes later, eyes still a little red. Ben pulled her aside later to tell her the lie.

It was dinnertime when Vic’s phone started to ring. She glanced at the screen and looked a little pale.

“Hi,” she replied, getting up from the table. She was gone for about five minutes, and wasn’t able to hide the grin when she sat back down.

“What’s up?” Gibson asked.

“Alex is cruising,” Vic said so smoothly Warren almost believed her. “Lucas didn’t get her on video doing it, but she’s cruising!”

“Cruising?” Miller asked.

“It’s when they hold onto furniture and walk around,” Vic explained.

“Oh god, she’s mobile!” Andy exclaimed.

Vic snorted. “Are you kidding? That kid can crawl so quickly it’s terrifying.”

“Is that all?” of course it’s Travis who picked up on it. “You looked kind of worried when you answered the call.”

“Luke doesn’t normally call,” Vic pointed out. “He’ll usually text. He just got excited about our baby ‘walking’.”

It was the best way to distract Montgomery, as he let out an aw and demanded pictures again, despite the fact that Warren suspected he had more photos of his 'niece' than Vic did of her own daughter.

Ben landed himself on KP with Vic, and as they were washing up he leaned over and asked, “well?”

“Eight weeks,” she replied under her breath. “I need to catch Sullivan.”

“Go now, while he’s doing paperwork,” Ben urged. “I’ll finish this.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Have you called Ripley?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to tell him over the phone,” she said, sounding anxious again. “I don’t know how he’ll react –”

“Hey,” Ben figured it was best to cut her off early. “He’s so absurdly in love with you and with your daughter. He’s going to be delighted.”

“I hope so,” Vic said, twisting her hands together.

“Go, talk to Sullivan,” he urged.

* * *

 

It had become a bit of a tradition when Vic was on maternity leave for the team to have breakfast after a Friday or Saturday shift out, and Vic and Lucas would join them with baby Alex. It had sort of continued on, and so the next morning, a Sunday, Ben was unsurprised to see Lucas walk up with Alex in her baby harness and Lucy on a leash. [Unsurprisingly, Miranda had texted to tell him to order for them, as she and Tuck would be late].

He’d arrived only a few minutes after station 19, and immediately moved to sit next to Vic.

“Give me my baby,” Travis demanded immediately, and Lucas laughed.

“Hello to you too. If she’s your baby we have some talking to do, Montgomery,” he said, unbuckling the harness and handing Alex over. Her 'Uncle Travis' immediately started cooing at her. “I’d also need to have a serious discussion with you, darling,” he said, obviously as a joke, as he turned to Vic.

Ben winced as Vic only flashed him a weak smile instead of laughing or retorting back as usual. Concern flashed immediately across Lucas’ face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

“What?!” Lucas wasn’t alone in exclaiming.

“I’ve been not hungry at breakfast and coffee tastes disgusting and then Ben asked how far along I was and –” Vic started to babble, and Ben couldn’t help but smile as Lucas’ face slowly shifted from surprise to delight. He took her face in his hands gently and stopped her babbling with a kiss.

“Ew,” said Dean.

“Really?” Lucas asked, ignoring the younger man.

“Really,” Vic said. “Eight weeks.”

“But…” Lucas sounded delighted but confused. “How? When?”

“I’m assuming the usual way, roughly eight weeks ago, Lucas,” Vic said drily and he blushed as the rest of the table laughed.

“Gross,” Dean interjected again.

“Shut up, Miller,” Andy said absently, eyes fixed to the spectacle unfolding in front of her.

“You’re okay with this?” Vic asked in a small voice.

“Okay with this…” Lucas parroted incredulously. “Of course I’m happy about us having another baby.” A thought obviously struck him, and he asked in alarm, “are you?”

“Yes of course,” Vic said immediately. “It’s just, timing wise I won’t have any maternity leave available and we’ll have two babies under eighteen months and-”

Ben was amused to watch the Chief shut his friend up by kissing her again.

“It doesn’t matter that you won’t have _paid_ maternity leave,” he said, pulling away. “I’ve got some left, not that it matters. I can support us while you take however long you want off.” He paused before smiling at her teasingly, “yes we’ll have two babies under eighteen months, but let’s be realistic here, if we’re going to have a cricket team of children, we needed to get cracking.”

The rest of the table goes from awkwardly watching this scene play out to laughing, as Vic hit him in the chest. A couple of times.

“Needed to get _cracking_?!” she said, laughing herself. “You asshole. I am _not_ going to push out eleven children for you.”

“So, consider this me reporting that I’m going to be down a firefighter, _again_ , because some _one_ keeps knocking her up,” Sullivan sighed, before leaning over and shaking Lucas’ hand. “As I said to Victoria last night, congratulations.”

“So, wait, when did you find out you were eight weeks?” Travis asked, looking up from his ‘niece’. “Also, congratulations, Uncle Travis very much approves.”

Vic’s glance slid to Ben as Lucas wrapped his arm happily around her shoulders. “Thanks, Warren, I don’t think I have actually said that yet.”

“It’s okay,” he said, grinning broadly back. “Miranda actually dropped by with a urine pregnancy test, then she took blood and ran it at the hospital. There’s perks to having friends who are doctors.”

“So literally last night,” Vic said, before looking apologetically at her husband. “I was going to tell you when we got home…I didn’t want to call you with it.”

“But you can’t keep a secret to save your life,” he said cheerfully, kissing her nose. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“You’re going to be a big sister, Alex,” Travis said to the baby who giggled. “Can you say baby brother or sister?”

“She can only say ‘dada’ right now, Travis,” Vic said, disgruntled, looking put out as Alex then proceeded to squeal those syllables.

“It doesn’t mean anything to her, darling,” Lucas said, kissing her ear, “it’s just easy to say.”

“This from the guy who spent an entire weekend crowing about how his daughter was calling him daddy already,” Vic said accusingly.

“I then spent an entire weekend trying to teach her to say ‘mama’,” Lucas said defensively.

“I know, honey,” she said with a grin before tilting her head up a little to kiss his jaw.

“See, this, there, with the kissing and the honeys and the sweethearts and the darlings,” Gibson pointed out. “That’s how you end up with Irish twins.”

“My wife’s having a baby again; we’ll be as fucking adorable as we want,” Ripley said smugly. Vic grinned, nodded, and leaned further into his side.

“Language!” Travis hissed, covering Alex’s ears.

“Ew,” Miller said at the same time. “Ow! You kicked me, Herrera!”

“That joke’s long overplayed, Dean,” Andy said, rolling her eyes.

 “Hey, you’ve had long enough with the baby,” Sullivan said. “Hand her over.”

“Uncle Travis loves you the most,” Montgomery said to Alex, who giggled and let out a couple more delighted ‘da da das’. “Don’t listen to Uncle Bobby.”

“Alex, you are a smart young lady,” Sullivan said solemnly, lifting Alex away. She burped in his face. “See, I knew you’d know what to make of Montgomery’s ridiculously patronising baby talk.”

“See, baby, we need to have one for each of your team so they stop fighting over them,” Lucas teased quietly. Vic shoved him playfully.

“No,” she said. “See, you get to do the fun bit, then I have to spend 9 months increasingly unable to hold my bladder for more than ten minutes and fat and uncomfortable, only to then have to push him or her out!”

Ben heard a strangled noise and looked over and laughed to see Gibson clap his hand over Miller’s mouth.

“Although, I have to agree with Dean, Vic, ew,” Gibson added.

"How is it possible that the two of you are more honeymoon-y now then you were when you actually got married!?" Andy demanded. 

"It's because now they're married they figure they don't have to worry about what people at work think," Ben guessed.

"Oh god, you mean if they met in a different context they'd've been all over each other like this from the start?" Travis asked in mock horror.

"Hey, you wanted to be Uncle Travis," Lucas pointed out as Vic stuck her tongue out at them all. "Also, who was it with the mistletoe hat trying to embarrass us right at the start? Was it - oh right, it  _was_ Miller and Montgomery."

"Oh this is payback?"

"And for the fact that you have spoiled our child relentlessly and we're going to have to deal with the fact that she'll get away with murder with you lot," Vic said, rolling her eyes.

"See if we spread the spoiling out over multiple children..." Lucas teased. 

"Lucas," Vic said warningly, and he immediately looked contrite. 

"Sorry, Vic," he said, kissing her temple.

"Well, he's whipped and you're disgusting," Miller proclaimed. "Now, can we order?!"


	30. Closing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.
> 
> This is the final chapter in Flashpoints. Thank you all so much for reading, your kudos, your comments, and your encouragement as I wrote effectively a novel in like three months! I hope you all enjoy this last chapter.

“Welcome aboard,” is the first thing the Battalion Chief says to her as Susie walks in. “I’m Deb Frankel.”

“Susie McMillan,” she replies automatically, shaking the older woman’s hand firmly.

“So you’ve transferred across from San Francisco?” Frankel asks, flipping open her file.

“Yes, ma’am,” Susie answers. “Family reasons.” She hopes Frankel is satisfied with that and doesn’t want a dissection of Susie’s recent and painful divorce which left her a single mom of two.

Seattle was never somewhere Susie thought she and the boys would end up, but that’s where her mom and step-dad had settled, and as they were willing and able to help look after the kids it had seemed the best option.

“Drew Kingsley spoke highly of you,” happily, Frankel moves on. “He worked this way for a bit; he and I actually sat the captain’s exam at the same time. With Chief Ripley, actually.”

“Yes ma’am,” Susie’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to say to that.

“It’s part of the reason we’ve given you 23,” Frankel explained. “This station has had its troubles. Chief Ripley and I, as Battalion Chief, have spent the better part of the last five years trying to bring it up to scratch. We’ve had a lot of old blood retire, and the team you have there now is decent. We want you to push them up into excellent.”

“The Chief mentioned something to the effect of it might be challenging,” Susie gives a shrug. “I plan on leading by example. Change from the top.”

Frankel gives a satisfied nod. “Let me run you through your team. Maya Bishop is an experienced lieutenant who’s about ready to sit the exams to be promoted to captain. There’s a bit of reshuffling going on in the FD at present; Battalion Chief Ryan is retiring, and Ripley and I have a captain in mind to promote. Bishop would then be our choice to promote to captain that station, pending the upcoming incinerator trial and follow up panel interviews. Jason Lester is an average lieutenant who has been at 23 for about six or so years. He’s decent, but isn’t the sort that will get promoted further and he knows it. Victoria Hughes has just transferred last week, replacing David Mayhorn who has decided to be a carpenter instead. Go figure. James Clarkson has been at 23…”

An hour or so later, Susie looks back over the brief notes she’s made of each of her officers. She pauses, and then looks back up to Frankel. “Who’s likely to replace Bishop?”

“Lieutenant applications are open for another three months – Ryan retires at the end of the year,” Frankel replied. “It’s a middling group of applicants; we’re also advertising in other departments. I’m hoping with the exam sitting in two months that we get a fresh batch of applications from that. You’ll lose Bishop before we can replace her.”

“Not ideal,” Susie hummed.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Frankel acknowledged. “But we have to work with the staff we have, and Ryan was initially planning to retire next year. Anyway. Any questions?”

Susie shook her head.

“Excellent. Call me at any point if you have concerns. Otherwise, we’ll catch up at the district meeting in a month. We like to rotate it around the stations, and it’s 23’s turn to host, so we’ll all see you there.”

* * *

 

Susie’s (unsurprisingly) forced to hit the ground running. There’s a four-alarm fire in an apartment building. The Fire Chief, Ripley, who she met for her interview months ago is already on scene.

“McMillan, into the deep end for you,” he greets her curtly. “I want your team on the roof, cutting a strip. This is a five-floor apartment building, and it looks like the fire began on the fourth floor. I’ve got 88 evacuating the building.”

“Chief,” Bishop says smartly, and Susie’s crew hurry to the ladder, setting it up.

A tall, grim man – the captain of station 19 by the look of his helmet – hurries up to them, his crew racing to catch up.

“Chief,” he says, throwing her retreating crew an odd glance. “I thought the on call was –”

“Sullivan,” Ripley cuts him off. “They’re sick and I’m covering. These were the nearest available units. I want your crew on RIT duty. Split them into two teams.”

“Sir,” Sullivan says after the barest hesitation. “Where’s 23?”

“Roof.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to –” Sullivan began.

“Our ladder’s already up,” Susie’s bristling a bit at the insinuation that their teams needed to swap. “Anything else I need to know, sir?”

“No,” Ripley shakes his head, and as Susie walks away to the ladder she hears him tell Sullivan, “the first crew here needed to be up there.”

It stings a little to hear that he’d have preferred 19 on the roof, but she gets that Sullivan’s a known quantity where she is not. It only spurs her on; she wants to impress Ripley. Susie’s confident enough to admit she’s eyeing a Battalion Chief position in the next few years.

She’s glad to see her crew have already started to gear up fully. They all head up the roof. Susie’s the last up (the last to start getting her gear on anyway) and when she gets up there she’s pleased to note that Bishop’s in the process of splitting the team.

Bishop flashes a quick, almost guilty look at her.

“Carry on,” Susie waves. Bishop knows the crew better than she does at this point, and she’s interested to see how the team is used.

“Hughes, Lester, Clarkson, McGrath you’re together,” Bishop orders. “The rest with me. I want you four to start on inspection cuts between the main part of the fire and us. My team, let’s start looking at where we’ll cut.”

“I’ll head with Lester,” Susie figures she’s better off taking the team with the apparently less competent lieutenant; she can’t deny she’s impressed with Bishop so far. “Carry on Bishop.”

“Ma’am,” Bishop nods curtly, and Susie can hear her issuing instructions to her team as Susie follows the other team.

“Woah,” Hughes shouts, grabbing on to Lester’s back. “Stop.” The lieutenant freezes. “We’ve got skylights. Careful.”

Susie looks at the roof ahead, and sure enough, she notices a skylight just under where Lester’s boot was going to land. He quickly half-hops back. To be fair to the lieutenant, the skylight is almost black with the interior smoke and the exterior soot that’s falling.

Before Susie can tell her to, Hughes is already radioing in to Bishop that there are skylights on the roof.

“Received, Hughes, thanks,” Bishop’s voice crackles over the radio.

Lester keeps moving, but Susie suspects he was a bit spooked by the near miss. Hughes glances at him briefly as they slow their pace, reaching as close to the fire as Susie thinks they should go. Just as she’s about to order them all to stop, Hughes does so.

“First port here,” she says briskly. McGrath starts tapping. It’s Clarkson who cuts the inspection hole, but it’s at Hughes’ instructions. Lester barely makes any contribution.

The team fall back a third of the way. McGrath finishes tapping, and Susie’s confident that Hughes can manage this as Clarkson starts to cut.

“Lester, McGrath, with me,” she says, hefting her chainsaw (she always brings a third to the roof. Just in case).

She takes some satisfaction in setting out the final inspection hole, but waits for Hughes and Clarkson to get back behind them before actually cutting.

Their inspection ports done, their team head back to Bishop. Susie radios ahead to tell Bishop to start to cut the far side of the roof.

It feels like no time at all before their strip is cut. Unfortunately, two of their three inspection holes are starting to flare.

“Chief, we’re cut,” she warns. “Standing by on your confirmation to open. Two of three inspection holes flaring.”

“All received,” Ripley radios back. Susie waves for Lester and Clarkson to head down with the chainsaws. A few moments pass, and the radio crackles. “You’re good to open, McMillan.”

“Received, sir, opening strip now,” Susie confirms, nodding to Bishop who opens the first panel, with immediate vent-point ignition. Susie gestures for everyone to start heading down. Hughes remains, holding on to Bishop to prevent her overbalancing.

It’s only sheer luck that has Bishop and Hughes to the last panel when they hear a concerning groan, and the roof shifts beneath their feet.

“Off!” screams Hughes, a split second faster than Bishop and Susie. The three women abandon the last panel, and dive for the ladder as the section of roof they had been standing on sheer moments before collapses, sending a plume of smoke and debris in the air.

The visibility thankfully improves as they head down the ladder. Ripley orders an evacuation of that corner of the building immediately over the radio.

Bishop, the last one on the ladder, has barely got her boots to the ground when Susie sees the Chief striding towards them. Susie sees relief flash across his face for a split second before it’s covered again.

“All right?” he asks, gaze flickering over the three of them.

“Yes, Chief,” Hughes replies.

“Good,” he says. “Bishop? McMillan?”

“Yes, sir,” McMillan choruses with Bishop.

“Okay,” Ripley says. “Get some water and take a seat for a minute. We’re going to take a look with the drone, re-evaluate where we’re at.”

They end up being rotated out after about five hours. Susie probably shouldn’t be grinning; she’s covered in smoke, sweaty, and exhausted. But it’s exactly what she’d hoped for. Ripley's good to work with at a scene (she hopes Frankel's the same). Her team at 23 need a lot of work, but there's a good amount of potential there. And her shitty ex-husband isn't around.

* * *

Over the next month or so, Susie’s unsurprised to find her initial impression of Bishop doesn’t change much. The younger woman is efficient and good at situational appraisal while directing her team to stay task focused. She’ll be an excellent captain.

Calling her other lieutenant, Lester, decent was a bit of a stretch. The man’s barely competent, and the sad thing is that he knows it. He’s a nice dude, but … just … not very good at his job.

Susie’s not sure if it’s simply because Bishop and Hughes clearly get on well or if it’s just Hughes demonstrating some natural leadership ability, but it’s clear that Hughes is effectively acting up as the second lieutenant. Even Lester takes instructions from her.

Hughes has an above average situational awareness, and in some ways, demonstrates more maturity than Bishop. It’s a little odd – Susie double checks her file to make sure – but Hughes just seems to have more _experience._ It’s almost like she’s been in the SFD for twenty years, not just eight. She’s not quite got the managerial skills Bishop has, which Hughes would need to make Captain (and Susie also wants to see how Hughes would actually do as a lieutenant, not a backseat lieutenant first).

Susie’s a little surprised that Hughes hasn’t been flagged for promotion in the last few years. Sure there’s a fair bit of maternity leave that may have interrupted the process, but it’s always been Susie’s habit to flag women for promotion irrespective of whether or not they’ve had, are having, or will have children. She figures it is a way to encourage them back to the job.

She wonders if Hughes’ outspoken attitude was something that really irritated her previous Captain. Sullivan’s reviews of Hughes are positive, but restrained, and it’s only in the last few that he even mentions the possibility of promotion. Susie always has preferred her team speak up about any suggestions they have or any issues they have. If they’ve got a better idea, why not do it? And if it’s not a better idea, she can point out why and they can move on.

So when the discussion at the district meeting turns to personnel, she’s ready.

“I think Bishop’s excellent,” she says, glancing only briefly at her notes. “Ready to be promoted to captain.”

Ripley gives a satisfied nod. “Excellent. She’s one of those at the top of my list, but it always helps to have another outside opinion.”

“There’s a rumour that Ryan’s retiring early,” says the captain from 12.

Ripley and Frankel exchange a glance. “That’s correct,” Frankel says after a beat. “But that’s to stay within this room until he announces it publicly.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and Susie realises everyone’s looking at the captain of 88 expectantly. Frankel looks like she’s bracing herself for a flashover, while Ripley’s face has gone completely blank.

“Sullivan’s a candidate, surely,” the words burst out of her mouth. Susie wishes she could remember the other woman’s name.

“Herrera,” Ripley says firmly, saving Susie from having to find where she’d jotted down everyone’s names. “I am not going to speculate on who is a candidate before nominations for the position have even opened.”

“You know what 19 means to me,” Herrera says passionately.

“It’s not going to happen,” Frankel cuts in.

“Ma’am,” Herrera begins.

“No,” Frankel continues over her. “You’ve been at 88 for barely a year. We are not going to play musical chairs with who captains which station unless there’s a damn good reason.”

Tears well up in Herrera’s eyes and Susie is well aware she is missing something. “My dad built that station!”

“And he’d be proud – I know he _was_ proud – as punch to see you build up 88 the way he built up 19,” Ripley says more gently. “I know what it means to you. But his legacy isn’t the _station_ , Andy.” He raises his eyebrows pointedly. “To be clear, I cannot foresee any reason for you to be transferred to 19 in the next five years. Understood?”

There is a heavy pause. “Understood,” Herrera says almost sulkily.

Susie waits a moment, before clearing her throat.

“Captain Sullivan,” she says, looking to the grim captain of 19, who’d sat with folded arms during that conversation. “I have a question about Hughes.”

“Call me when you’re done,” Ripley says immediately to Frankel, quickly standing up and grabbing his cup of mostly drunk coffee.

Susie can’t help but frown. “You’re not interested in-”

“You could say he has a vested interest,” interrupts Sullivan drily.

Herrera chokes, and Susie loses her sentence flow as she glances over in concern. The highly amused looking captain of station 12 is pounding her back as Frankel and a handful of others chuckle.

“I’m Hughes’ husband,” Ripley says matter-of-factly.

“What?!” Susie exclaims, mentally kicking herself for just flicking past the first page of Hughes’ file with the personal details.

“I’m her husband,” Ripley repeats, awkwardly pointing to his wedding ring. “I try to have as little to do with her professionally as possible.”

“That’s why he’s never on call for her shift,” Sullivan says. “The fire last month was very atypical for him to be running the scene with her present.”

“I’m still not sure that you shouldn’t have just handed over to Sullivan,” Frankel says.

“We needed a RIT commander,” Ripley shakes his head, looking a little pale. “I can’t – if she’s on scene and she needs a RIT I’d rather be running the scene than the RIT. Besides. That’s the first time in, what, five years that’s happened?”

“You’ve not accounted for her maternity leave there,” Frankel accuses, and Ripley rolls his eyes at her.

“ _I_ still think you should’ve put 19 on the roof and 23 on the RIT,” Sullivan says.

“I had no idea when you were going to show up, Sully,” Ripley’s tone hardens. “Management of the scene takes priority. Anyway, I’m going to have a coffee and probably start my lunch,” he says, eyeing the clock. “When you’re done, take half an hour and we’ll reconvene for the afternoon session.”

“Sir,” Susie stops him on his way out. He turns, raising his eyebrows. “Do you talk about work with her?”

His face goes carefully blank. “Never about personnel matters or anything else that should be confidential,” he says flatly.

“No, I meant scenes,” she clarifies. His face clears a little.

“Yes,” he replies simply.

“Okay, thanks,” Susie nods. He nods back, then heads out the door, closing it behind him.

Everyone turns to look at Susie expectantly.

“It shows in the maturity of her thinking. My question, Sullivan, is about her evaluations. I think she’s lieutenant ready. She’s better than Lester, and at the moment, is essentially acting as a lieutenant,” Susie says briskly. “I was going to ask if there was a reason you haven’t properly tagged her.”

Station 12’s captain, Campbell, leans forward. “For context, the SFD is a small department. Ripley was my lieutenant when I was a rookie. He was Paul and Frankel’s captain.” Station 18's captain waves.

“He and I went through the academy and our first few years together until he was promoted to captain,” Sullivan adds.

“Hughes was my rookie, before they were in a relationship. She’s one of my closest friends,” Herrera admits.

“There’s no one in this room without a tie to either of them,” Frankel picks up the trail. “She started at 19, and it seemed unfair to her to move her from that station until we could move her to a station without bias.”

“I felt she was probably lieutenant ready,” Sullivan admits. “But for her sake I wanted to avoid making that call. This battalion – by accident, not design – is full of people who are friends with one or both of them.”

“Not to mention I don’t particularly like the idea of moving her to a battalion where the battalion chief had political issues with Ripley. We wanted her career to be as separate as possible,” Frankel says.

Susie glances around the room. “Well, if the reason she hasn’t been pushed forward is fear of favouritism, then I’m more than happy to champion her to lieutenant. His position is holding her back, not helping her.”

Frankel looks grimly satisfied. “Good. The way we’ve worked it, to be clear, is everything ends with me as Battalion Chief. Ripley will have no involvement in promotional or disciplinary actions, and as you saw, he leaves the room before any discussions happen about Hughes. We avoid them being on scene together as much as possible. Can I get you, McMillan, to talk to Hughes and tell her to put in a lieutenant application? We’d keep her at 23; I don’t mind having three there given Lester’s performance is subpar.”

“All right,” Susie agrees.

“Any other issues?” Frankel asks. There are none, so everyone starts packing up, standing and stretching. A group of captains discuss going out for lunch, but there’s a handful of people who brought lunch with them.

Susie leads that group into the dining room, to find half her team – including Hughes and Bishop – sitting having their lunch. Ripley’s sitting across from his wife, chatting amiably with Bishop who’s sitting next to him.

“Vic!” Herrera bounces past Susie and wraps her arms around around Hughes from behind.

“Hey, Herrera,” Hughes greets with an amused tone. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been a month; our shifts hate each other, and you’re way too busy,” Herrera accuses. “How are the kids?”

“Grab your lunch and sit and I will bombard you with photos,” Hughes replies, patting the seat next to her. Susie stands at the kitchen island, observing quietly as Sullivan comes up behind Hughes.

“Settled in well?” he asks her quietly. She looks up at him and smiles.

“Yeah, I think so,” Hughes replies with a smile. He nods in satisfaction, taking the seat on the other side of Ripley.

There’s a lot of people in the room, now, so Susie’s pretty happy to just stand at the island and eat after sitting all morning. She watches Hughes and Ripley, trying not to stare.

She’s pretty sure that if she hadn’t just been told that they were married she wouldn’t have worked it out from their behaviour now. They’re friendly, but even though Hughes is showing what are presumably pictures of their kids to Herrera, they’re not overly familiar.

It seems to be an open secret, though, as her crew don’t seem surprised (although they seem a little awed) by Ripley’s presence and easy conversation.

“Any concerns?” Frankel asks her quietly, stepping closer.

Susie glances over. “Well, I mean, the horse has bolted,” she points out. “Would I have an issue with the Chief dating one of my firefighters? Absolutely I would. But they’re married. With kids.” She takes a breath. “And this is the best station for her. I don’t know him, personally or professionally. So I’m best placed to evaluate her on her own terms.”

“I agree,” Frankel says. “There’s been a number of discussions over the years about to what extent we all need to recuse ourselves – obviously, Ripley and I have become friends. Sullivan and Ripley are friends. Ripley’s friends with a lot of her friends. We’ve agreed that if we are no closer than the average captain-firefighter friendship then we will not recuse ourselves.”

“That’s the problem with firefighting,” McMillan says, because Frankel seems to be looking for a response. “It’s a small world, and a big family.”

* * *

 

_The Following Shift_

“What would you think of applying for a lieutenant’s position?” Susie asks briskly, having gestured Hughes to close the door to the office and take a seat.

Hughes pauses. She doesn’t seem surprised. “I don’t think I realised until coming here that I am probably ready for it,” she says slowly, without false modesty. “19 has a lot of people promoted from within, and we have a pattern we tend to fall into. Coming here has shown me that outside of that dynamic I can step up more.”

Susie likes that. “I agree,” she says. “I wasn’t aware until the district meeting who your husband was, but I don’t particularly care. You’re an excellent firefighter who could do a lot more. I want you to put your application in.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hughes says with a brilliant smile.

* * *

 

_Two months later_

They hold a community day at the station. It’s a little odd to see Ripley turn up, out of uniform. He’s got a toddler on his hip and a little girl skipping along holding his hand. The little girl catches sight of Hughes, standing next to Susie, and immediately yells, “Mommy.”

Ripley drops her hand and the little girl races straight for Hughes who easily picks her up and twirls her a little.

“Hey sweetie,” she says fondly, giving the girl a kiss. “This is Captain Susie, say hi.”

“Hi,” the little girl looks suddenly shy, laying her head down on Hughes’ chest.

“This is my daughter Alex,” Hughes adds.

“Hi there,” Susie waves. The little girl is beautiful, with curly brown hair and light brown skin. She has green eyes, somewhat surprisingly.

“Hi, Luke,” Vic greets her husband as he follows at a more sedate pace.

“Hey, Victoria,” Ripley replies, before glancing at Susie. “McMillan, hi. This is our son, Edward. Say hi, Ted?”

Susie waves at the little boy, who has his thumb stuck in his mouth, but isn’t surprised when she’s ignored.

“Momma,” the little boy says instead, leaning forward out of his dad’s arms.

“Guess who’s the favourite,” Ripley says with a roll of the eyes and a laugh as Hughes reaches out to take their son off him as well, expertly managing to balance a child on each hip.

“Aunty Maya!” crows the little girl suddenly, immediately squirming to be put down.

“Not for long,” Hughes laughs, letting Alex down and watching as the little girl careens over to Bishop’s legs, latching on. Bishop laughs, and immediately picks her up.

“How old is he?” Susie asks politely.

“Teddy bear how old are you?” Hughes prompts, and the little boy grins as he holds up one finger. “Use your words, baby.”

“One,” Ted says for emphasis.

“Wow you’re a big boy,” Susie says, unable to not grin as the toddler beams back. It’s not a surprise that their kids are cute, both with curly brown hair. Ted’s a bit darker than his sister, with brown eyes rather than green.

“He’s eighteen months, Alex is nearly three,” Ripley explains.

“How do you guys manage with your jobs?” Susie asks sympathetically.

 “Luke’s mom,” Hughes replies. “She takes the kids when we’re both working. She’s amazing.”

“Without her I probably would’ve retired after this little guy,” Ripley admits, tickling his son.

“No, I would’ve not come back,” Hughes argues, looking at him.

Ripley rolls his eyes. “One of the two, anyway,” he says to Susie. “But with Mom happy to take the kids, we’d rather save for college for them. If they want it.”

Susie sighs. “Yeah, it’s so hard. My boys are twelve and seven. It’s getting close enough that I have to really start thinking about Riley’s schooling.”

Ripley mock shudders. “We’ve got a while to think about it,” he says. “Alex is only two still.”

“Deb,” the boy in Hughes’ arms suddenly points. The approaching Battalion Chief in question looks surprised.

“Teddy bear is that you?” she reflexively takes him as he holds his arms out to her. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Deb Deb Deb,” he says happily, patting her face.

“Not since he turned one, I think, but he always liked you,” Ripley says, before turning to explain to Susie. “When the kids were little I’d take them in with me around once a month to give Mom a break. Stopped doing that when they got mobile, obviously. But Ted _loved_ Deb. Adored her.”

“Anyway, mission successful, we got rid of the kids,” Hughes says with a grin.

“Near record time too,” Ripley jokes, glancing at his watch. He reaches a hand out to Hughes, who immediately takes it. “We’ll just grab a bite to eat while we can.”

“Wait, you’re just gonna leave your kid with me?” Frankel says in alarm to their retreating backs. “What if he cries?”

“We’re just getting food, he’s fine,” Hughes says dismissively.

“Where _is_ their other kid, come to think of it?” Frankel asks, sounding worried as she hoists Teddy up higher on her hip.

“Bishop’s currently holding her upside down and swinging her around,” Susie points to where Alex is happily giggling her head off. “And trust me, as a parent, the first thing you try to do is give your kids away to other people at this age to hold them for a bit.”

Frankel shakes her head, looking down at Ted who is contentedly playing with the beaded necklace she is wearing.

“He was easier when he was a baby,” she remarks. “All he did was sleep. Right Ted?”

“Fire engun,” Ted replies, pointing as Lester slowly drives the engine out of the station, parking it outside in the driveway. The kids, predictably, go nuts and race over.

Frankel laughs. “Figures that would be two of the words you would know. Do you want to see the engine?”

“Fire engun,” he repeats, squirming to be put down. Deb reluctantly lets him down, and grabs his hand as he starts to toddle towards the engine.

“Now, I’d be impressed if he was actually able to distinguish between that and the ladder,” Susie remarks, figuring she might as well go over as the captain of the station to her own engine.

“Ladder,” Ted says proudly. “Fire engun.”

They head over at a toddler’s pace, which is quite slow. He toddles up to one of the wheels and pats it. “Fire engun,” he says with a broad toothy grin. “Lex!”

He starts to toddle again, and Susie looks to see that he’s heading towards his sister who is watching Bishop point out a hose reel with wide eyes.

“This is a hose, Alex,” Bishop explains, grin broadening as she sees Ted. “Hey Teddy bear.”

“Teddy, this is Mommy’s fire engine,” Alex tells her brother proudly.

“Mommy uses the hose to put fires out!” Bishop exclaims.

“With you?” Alex breathes, wide-eyed.

Ted simply claps his hands and shouts, “Mommy!”

“Yeah. Your mommy and I climb up ladders and point the hoses at the fires,” Bishop tells the enthralled kids.

“Daddy used to, but Daddy’s old,” Alex says. “He’s Chief.”

The three women laugh. Alex looks confused.

“Who told you Daddy didn’t because he was old?” Bishop asks, still laughing.

“Mommy,” Alex says, putting her hands on her hips. She looks adorable in her little overalls, Susie has to admit.

Bishop laughs. “Well, your mommy’s right.”

Suddenly, the horn blares. Alex claps her hands over her ears. Teddy tries to spin around, falls, and starts to cry.

“Oopsie, Teddy, oopsie,” Alex says, immediately sitting next to her brother and patting him (not terribly gently) on the head. “Kiss better.” She kisses his forehead.

He takes a deep, sobbing breath.

The horn blares again, and Alex claps her hand over her ears again, starting to look a bit upset as well.

“Daddy!” Ted screams.

Susie turns around and hurries up to the cabin where Lester is showing a couple of pre-teens the interior of the engine. “Hey, Lester, there are some little kids around that you’re terrifying. Quit blowing the horn.”

He looks a little sheepish. “Sorry, Captain.”

She heads back, only to see that Ripley and Hughes have appeared from seemingly nowhere.

“Teddy fell over when the horn blared,” Bishop reports crisply. “Didn’t hit his head, just landed on his bottom.”

“Oh buddy, did you get a fright?” Ted reaches his arms up to his dad who hefts him up. “Hey little man, it’s okay.”

“Teddy had a oopsie,” Alex reports, latching onto her Mom’s leg. “I kissed it better.”

“She really did,” Bishop says with a smile. “You’re a good big sister.”

“Good girl,” says Hughes, ruffling her daughter’s curly hair.

“Sticker?” Alex asks hopefully.

Ripley and Hughes both glance at each other and laugh.

“Little mercenary,” Ripley says affectionately.

“She’s your daughter, Luke,” Hughes says with a grin. “Little mini-Slytherin just like her daddy.”

“Nothing wrong with being a Slytherin, Hughes,” Bishop says.

“Sticker _please_?” Alex looks confused, but is sticking to her guns.

Ripley looks over at Bishop. “Was she really being very good?” Bishop nods.

“Daddy will give you a sticker when you go home then,” Hughes pronounces, and Alex grins in satisfaction. “Tell Captain Susie and Chief Deb what happens when you get a row of stickers?”

“I get a candy and Daddy has to read a book,” she says with a grin.

“An extra book at bedtime,” Victoria clarifies. “What do you want him to read?”

“Peter Pan!”

Ripley groans. “I’ve just discovered how _long_ that story is,” he mutters under his breath.

Teddy, meanwhile, has stopped crying and is just sniffing manfully. “Fire engun,” he says, pointing again.

“What colour is the fire engine, bud?” Ripley prompts, stepping closer so that Ted can reach out and stroke the side of the vehicle.

“Wed!” Ted says.

“It was lovely to meet your kids,” Susie says to Hughes and Ripley as she spies Clarkson waving at her frantically from the small barbeque they’d set up. “See you at the district meeting.”

“See you Monday at 88,” Ripley says with a nod.

“Ma’am,” Susie farewells Frankel as well, before heading over to Clarkson.

* * *

_Seven Months Later_

There’s a rap on the door.

“Come in,” Susie says, absently scribbling a signature on the piece of paperwork in front of her. She looks up to see Hughes closing the door. “Feeling better, Hughes?”

She’d walked in on the younger woman vomiting in the toilet about half an hour beforehand. Hughes gives her a queasy smile.

“Not exactly –” she starts.

“Go home, then, I’ll find someone to cover,” Susie says, biting her lip and mentally going through a list of names of people who she thinks would be likely to pick up an extra shift.

“No, Captain, that won’t be necessary,” the lieutenant says with a wince. “It’s…ah…going to be a pretty regular thing, I think, for at least the next couple of months.”

“You’re pregnant,” Susie realises out loud at the same time as Hughes says she is pregnant. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Hughes replies. “I’m six weeks, so we’re not telling anyone else, but it’d be great if I could be rostered away from the engine –”

“Of course,” Susie waves her hand. “Not an issue. But seriously, if the morning sickness is really bothering you –”

“It’s fine,” Hughes says quickly. “It’s actually, uh, twins, so my obstetrician said that the morning sickness will probably be worse.”

Susie winces sympathetically. “With my second, Connor, I had hyperemesis gravidarum. Had to be in hospital for a week. So, honestly, if you’re not feeling up to it, it’s fine.”

“I just feel bad because I know I’m leaving you short-handed,” Hughes says apologetically.

“Career-wise, there’s never a good time to have kids,” Susie sighs. “If it hadn’t been Bishop being promoted out it would have been something else.”

Hughes has been a lieutenant for six months, now, and Bishop had been promoted to captain of 19 three months ago. It had become clear that Bishop had effectively been captaining 23 for some time – Susie’s predecessor seemed to have checked out of the job a while before actually leaving. With Bishop and Hughes as capable hands, Susie’s spent some time working on Lester’s ability, and he’s now a passable lieutenant.

She still wishes she wasn’t losing her more capable lieutenant though.

“Anyway, put in the paperwork for leave when you get to the end of your first trimester. I’ll keep you on aid car and station duties in the interim,” Susie says.

* * *

_Six weeks later_

She'd bitten her tongue in district meeting just after she'd found out Hughes was pregnant, but takes some pleasure in the one after that of raising her personnel issue.

“I’ll need lieutenant cover,” she says briskly. “In about five months.”

Ripley swallows hard, and casually reaches for his coffee mug, sliding his chair back in preparation for making an escape.

“That’s specific,” Bishop says, narrowing her eyes and glancing at Herrera.

“Very,” Herrera agrees. [It’s the first time the meeting hasn’t been excruciatingly awkward in the last three months. Susie gathers that Herrera and Bishop had patched up whatever rift had opened in their relationship after the latter had been promoted to captain of 19, as Sullivan had been promoted out to Battalion Chief].

“Oh god, have you knocked her up again?” Frankel groans, snapping her head to Ripley.

He blushes, and moves to stand.

“We’re not actually discussing Hughes’ work here, Chief, you really don’t need to leave,” Susie smiles at him sweetly.

“If we need to replace Hughes because she’s pregnant you can damn well sit down and deal with the consequences,” Frankel grumbles. “The timing’s terrible –”

“Well, you know what, it’ll never be convenient for the department,” Ripley snapped back. “But yes, Vic’s twelve weeks along.”

“Pay up, Bishop,” Herrera says smugly as a groaning Bishop opens up her phone case and slides a twenty dollar bill over to her friend. “Told you she wasn't drinking because she was pregnant! Congratulations, Rip.”

“Congratulations,” Bishop says, slightly more sourly.

“Sorry, Rip,” to her credit, Frankel does look genuinely a bit regretful. “I didn’t quite mean it like that. Congratulations.”

“It’s a good thing I’m used to your ornery-ness, Deb,” is all he says as he reluctantly sits back down. “But yes, we’re both aware it leaves a bit of a gap.”

“ _I_ can’t believe we’re finding this out here,” Herrera says, throwing her hands up.

“ _I_ can’t believe you bet on it,” Ripley retorts pointedly. “But there’s always such a huge deal made by you 19ers about who is the last to know what that we were going to tell you all all at once when Montgomery gets back from leave.”

“We’re the first to know?!” Bishop brightens, and she and Herrera high five.

“Captains,” Ripley says sternly, rolling his eyes. “Save it for later, seriously.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how uncomfortable are you right now, sir?” chuckles Campbell from 12 who, along with the other five captains in the room, are clearly sitting back and enjoying watching their boss be put in an awkward position.

“Eleven,” Ripley groans.

“Will you need a lieutenant or can we get away with replacing Hughes with a standard firefighter?” Frankel refocuses the conversation.

“I’d hoped to get away with a standard firefighter, but over the last six weeks it’s become clear that without Hughes available on engine we’ll struggle,” Susie admits. “We can manage, but our response times will be right down.”

Ripley curses. “That’s not what I’d hoped you’d say. Last meeting you seemed optimistic about Lester.”

“With Hughes as support,” she says, before frowning. “You two _really_ don’t talk about personnel issues, do you?”

“Never,” he shakes his head. “Well, with the benefit of having eight weeks of fore-knowledge, I’ve had a bit of a look at some options.”

“The trouble is, I assume, having someone take that position for a relatively short term, presuming Vic returns to work,” Herrera hums.

“She will,” Bishop says immediately, looking to Ripley. “Right?”

“We’re planning on her returning to work,” Ripley says carefully.

“And you, sir?” Susie asks sharply, suddenly recalling a throwaway comment he'd made months ago.

There’s a short pause. Frankel looks positively alarmed as she looks over to Ripley.

“Not planning to be a house husband just yet, McMillan,” Ripley replies.

“’Just yet’, Lucas?” Frankel’s tone of voice is strangled as she looks at Ripley.

“Deb, we’ve got two kids under four and Vic’s pregnant again,” Ripley says. “That’s a hell of a lot of years to raise kids on a single income and a pension. I’m not going to be able to retire for a while yet.”

“Plus the alcohol cabinet needs funding,” Bishop says, breaking the tension.

“The alcohol intake increases exponentially with each kid, right, sir?” Lee from station 12 remarks. Ripley chuckles.

“Exactly. Anyway, couple of options. My preferred option is to bring over Colin May from 38, in battalion 6. He’s not a lieutenant, but he’s had twenty-eight years in the department and is excellent.”

“This wouldn’t be a retirement plan?” Susie asks sceptically.

“It’s absolutely a retirement plan for him,” Ripley acknowledges. “But he’s not slow.”

“He’s essentially a lieutenant,” Lee agrees. “I was at 38 with him back in the day. He’s great.”

“But with no actual lieutenant experience?” Susie asks, not feeling particularly reassured.

“The other option I have would be to take Miller off you, Bishop, and move him to 23 for Vic’s leave, moving May to 19,” Ripley says reluctantly.

“Would I get Miller or Hughes back?” Bishop asked.

“I want McMillan to keep Hughes,” Frankel interjects. “That’s in the best interests for her career.”

“ _I_ want to keep Hughes,” Susie says firmly. She likes the younger woman, and respects her. “If you want me to have any chance of making 23 up to speed, I need as much stability in my crew as we can get.”

“It’s not fair to Miller,” Ripley warns. “Bouncing him in between stations like that.”

“Dean would be happy to do it,” Bishop says.

“Particularly if you promise to name the kid Rupert,” Herrera adds.

Ripley laughs. “Victoria’s vetoed _that_ name on two previous occasions, despite all the lobbying that came when Teddy was born.”

“Why Rupert?!” Campbell asks incredulously. “It’s an awful name at the best of time! 'Rupert Ripley' would be a new level of cruelty to children.”

“It’s Miller’s middle name,” Herrera explains. “I feel he’d be better off trying to get you guys to name your kid Dean.”

“We’re way off topic,” Ripley sighs. “I’d prefer to just move May, McMillan. Miller’s excellent, but he’s a relatively new lieutenant. You have a lot of inexperienced but promising juniors that I think will benefit from working with May who will spend a bit more time teaching.”

“Can I trial him? I mean, ideally I’d have extra cover now for Hughes. Sure, she’s physically present and working in the aid car, but if May’s supposed to replace my lieutenant…”

“You can have him after the academy grads hit the workforce in two months,” Ripley says with a tone of finality.

“Okay,” Susie figures that’s the best she’s likely to get.

“Good. Any other personnel issues?” Ripley asks briskly. Everyone shakes their head. “All right, let’s break for lunch. Back here at 1315 on the dot, please.”

“See, you may have made the mess by impregnating the girl, but you _had_ fixed the problem,” Frankel says quietly to Ripley as they all file out. Susie stops with Bishop and Herrera just out of sight beyond the door, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“I mean, I would like to point out that Victoria wasn’t exactly an unwilling participant here,” Ripley retorts. “Why am I getting all the blame?!”

“Just tell me that you’re done after this?” Frankel says with a sigh. “It’s interrupting her career.”

Ripley laughs. “Well, we’ve agreed that my 54th birthday present will be a vasectomy.”

Frankel groans. “That means I still have what, two more years of worrying about how the two of you go at it like rabbits? And you do realise there’s that period after a vasectomy where she can still get pregnant?” She pauses, before asking in a horrified tone. “Wait, are the two of you planning _any_ of this?”

“Not exactly,” Ripley admits, a little sheepishly. “But you know us. None of this was planned.”

“That’s right, you accidentally slept with her, then you accidentally fell in love with her, then you accidentally eloped, and now you have accidentally knocked her up three times. Jesus, Rip.”

Herrera snorts, Bishop hits her shoulder, and Susie gestures at them to follow her out of there before Ripley and Frankel leave the room.

* * *

 

_Epilogue_

Lucas is a little put out when he gets back home. He'd been called out in the afternoon, and had stayed out attending a scene until 0200. The paperwork (and he always liked to try to get it done while the scene was fresh in his mind) had taken until 0330. So it's now, at 0400, that he's stepping back into his bedroom, wanting nothing more than to curl around his beautiful wife and sleep.

Unfortunately for him, his side of the bed is occupied. Alex is sleeping horizontally across his side of the bed, her little feet dangling just slightly over the edge. Meanwhile, Teddy has snuggled into Vic's chest, exactly where Lucas had sort of hoped _he'd_ be able to sleep.

As if on cue, the twins start crying next door. Of course, it's just one to start with, but the other always wakes up within a split second and joins the chorus.

"I'm home, darling, I'll get them," he says as Vic starts to stir. He pads into the next room, and scoops first Pippa and then Kit up. [At least one of them had a name that he and Vic had intended. Philippa fit with the theme of girls' names in their family, and Pippa was a nice way to shorten it. Kit, meanwhile, was a victim of Teddy's inability to say Chris properly. He and Vic had both liked the ensuing nickname, however, so it had stuck].

He brings the babies into their bedroom. Vic's switched on the nightlight, and blinks blearily at him, already fumbling at her top to release a breast. She accepts the first baby he hands her (Kit, who hadn't settled when he'd picked him up). With one hand, Lucas expertly holds Pippa against his shoulder, lifting Alex's feet up and sliding her in line with the bed so that he can hop in.

"You promised me you wouldn't have anyone else in your bed other than me," he jokes quietly. Vic huffs with amusement, as the sound of Kit greedily feeding fills the air.

"When did you get home, baby?" she asks, still clearly half asleep.

"Just walked in the door," he replies, gazing at her. Her hair is a mess of curls everywhere, and there's a patch of drool on her tank top from where Teddy has clearly rested his head.

"What?" she asks, a little grumpily.

"You're so beautiful," he says softly.

"It's four am, my hair's a mess, and I'm exhausted because we have four children under five," Vic says, somewhat waspishly.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Lucas repeats, and leans in to kiss her gently. "I love you so much, Victoria."

"I love you too," she sighs against his lips, before slipping her tongue into his mouth. He groans quietly, lets their tongues tangle together briefly, before pulling back.

"If Miller were here, he'd say that this is how we got into this mess," Lucas sighs.

Vic giggles. "Can we not talk about Miller being in our bedroom?" she asks. 

"I think the four children sharing our bed right now are more of a problem than me mentioning Miller," he says archly.

"Daddy?" there's a snuffling as Alex sits up between them.

"Hi baby girl," Lucas gently strokes her hair. "Go back to sleep, honey."

"Love you," she snuffles, before rolling over and passing out again, her arm falling over Teddy. She reflexively cuddles him like the toy he shares a name with. [Teddy, their sound sleeper, hasn't budged from sleeping curled up in a ball drooling. Lucas notices with some distaste that Vic had moved him onto  _his_ pillow].

"See, then they do stuff like that and it makes it all worthwhile," Vic yawns. Lucas is inclined to agree, and they sit for a while in silence in the low light, listening to Alex's snores and Kit's feeding.

Just as Pippa's starting to get restless again, Kit (whose feeding had started to slow) starts to join Alex in snoring.

"Swap?" Vic says tiredly and, with remarkable dexterity for the early hour, they swap infants. Lucas props Kit up on his shoulder and reflexively starts burping him as Pippa latches on and starts feeding. Lucas is starting to drift off himself when Pippa stops feeding. Vic burps her, and hands her to Lucas. 

Lucas gets up, taking the two babies back to their cots. He stands there for a moment before pressing a kiss to first Kit's forehead then Pippa's forehead. "Mommy and Daddy love you both so much," he whispers, before leaving the room. In his absence, Vic's done some rearranging. Alex has been moved right across to Lucas' side of the bed, with Teddy now in the middle of Lucas' pillow. Vic's moved her pillow more to the middle of the bed, leaving room for Lucas to slide in behind her on her side.

"Your pillow was already drooled on by Bear," she says sleepily as Lucas slips into bed. 

"As long as I get to cuddle you, I don't mind," he says into her ear, as he spoons her. Their legs tangle together, and Lucas leans over at an awkward angle to kiss her again.

"Love you, Luke," she says, reaching a hand back and blindly patting his cheek.

"Love you too, sweetheart," he says, tightening his grip around her waist and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

When he wakes up, dawn light is filtering through the edges around the curtains. He's lying on his back with Vic lying half on top of him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Teddy is cuddling her back, koala style. Alex's green eyes meet his as he blinks again.

"Back to sleep for a bit, Alex," he pleads. For once, their nonstop daughter nods, and she climbs back down to rest her head on his free shoulder. He closes his eyes and drifts back again, as Vic nuzzles closer into his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ripley - remains as Fire Chief, looking to retire and be a house husband  
> Frankel - remains as Battalion Chief  
> Sullivan - initially captain at 19, promoted out to Battalion Chief in the next battalion area over  
> Gibson - promoted to captain at a station in a different battalion  
> Herrera - promoted to captain at 88  
> Bishop - initially lieutenant at 23, then promoted to captain of 19  
> Miller - promoted to lieutenant at 19  
> Montgomery - promoted to lieutenant at 19  
> Hughes - initially transferred as a firefighter to 23, then promoted to lieutenant there  
> Warren - firefighter at 19  
> _  
> The Ripley Children:  
> Alex - Alexandra Louise  
> Ted/Teddy/Bear - Edward Hugh (much to Vic's dismay and Lucas' delight)  
> Pip/Pippa/Pippi - Philippa Jane  
> Kit/Kitty/Kitster/Chris - Christopher James


End file.
